The Work of Hunters
by Zubeneschamali
Summary: Lee and Amanda journey to Berlin on a case involving a double agent and an escape past the Berlin Wall, bringing back memories for Lee and making him wonder if history is repeating itself. Two stories for the price of one! Complete and corrected.
1. Prologue

Title: The Work of Hunters  
Author: Julie C.  
Rating: PG   
Category: Action/Adventure  
Summary: Lee and Amanda journey to Berlin on a case involving a double agent and an escape past the Berlin Wall, bringing back memories for Lee and making him wonder if history is repeating itself. Two stories for the price of one!

Disclaimer: Any re-publication, re-transmission, re-broadcast, or other use of the pictures and accounts of this game without the express written consent of Major League Baseball -- whoops, wrong disclaimer. The characters of Lee Stetson, Amanda King, and Billy Melrose are the property of Shoot the Moon Productions and Warner Brothers and are only being used for fun. Other characters are mine, all mine!

Feedback: Please! Pretty please! Good or bad, to jlcidell at yahoo.com.

Author's Notes: This puppy has been eighteen months in the making, and that means I have a lot of people to thank. First, Miriam for her always superb beta-ing, and her support and enthusiasm. The reason to have betas is as much for editing/proofreading as it is having someone to tell you they want to know what happens next! Second, big thanks to Vikki the Plot Doctor for prescribing and assisting in major surgery, as well as follow-up care. Also, thank you to Kim for early editing, and to Pam for correcting me on various aspects of life in Berlin in the 1980s. Finally, thanks to my "sister" Heike for telling me stories about growing up in West Berlin and for taking me home with her. Berlin is an amazing city, truly like no other in the world. It was great fun setting a story there, and I' d love to go back someday.

This story is dedicated to the hundreds who died trying to cross the Berlin Wall, to the hundreds of others who managed to escape, and to everyone who tried to give assistance in whatever way they could.

****

Prologue

The work of hunters is another thing:  
I have come after them and made repair  
Where they would have left not one stone on a stone,  
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,  
To please the yelping dogs.   
--Robert Frost, "Mending Wall"

Thursday, November 9, 1989  
5:20 P.M.  
Washington, DC  
Agency headquarters

"This is Christiane Amanpour, live with CNN in West Berlin. As you can see behind me, the celebrations continue here at the border between East and West Germany." The camera pulled back to show thousands of people milling in the streets, some dancing and hugging on top of an enormous concrete wall, others hacking away with hammers and chisels at that same wall. "It was approximately three hours ago that travel restrictions between East and West Berlin were lifted, and now the East Germans are beginning to tear down the Wall they once put so much effort into maintaining."

The live footage showed a giant drill extending through the wall from the eastern side. The drill stopped, and two East German soldiers poked their heads through to the roars of the crowd. Smiling, they shook a few hands before withdrawing and then inserting the drill again a few meters away.

Christiane's voice resumed, "People continue to pour in from all over the city to join in this remarkable celebration. Many of these people hoped and dreamed this day would come, but few of them believed it would happen in their lifetimes. There are families reuniting who haven't seen each other more than a handful of times, if at all, in the 28 years the Wall has stood. I understand the East Germans are loosening border controls elsewhere as well, and they are preparing for an influx of West Germans and other Europeans who want to see this incredible sight with their own eyes. Berlin, of course, is located entirely within East Germany, despite being partially controlled by the former Allied powers, so it will be several hours before those other celebrants can make their way here to join in. After a word from our European political analysts, we'll be back live from not West, not East, but at least for tonight, just Berlin."

Lee Stetson looked towards his boss as the latter flicked the mute button on the remote control. Both men broke into huge smiles, and Billy Melrose let out a chuckle. "God, this is incredible! The Berlin Wall is *down*, man, it's down!"

"Unbelievable." Lee shook his head and leaned back in his chair, across the desk from his section chief. "How many times have we sat around and debated whether this would actually happen? A couple dozen?"

"A couple hundred, more likely. Do you have any idea the implications this has for Eastern Europe, and for the Soviet Union? For the entire balance of world power? Our jobs just got a lot more complicated, my friend."

"Don't remind me." Lee jerked his head towards the file cabinets in the corner of Billy's office. "How many of those files are now out of date?"

"You know, they're already talking about reunification happening within a year." When Lee raised his eyebrows, Billy went on, "Well, at least CNN is. But I wouldn't be surprised. Once things start changing like this, they can move at speeds you wouldn't believe. I remember that thing going up," he gestured at the picture on the TV, "when I was just a rookie. The concept of building a wall right down the middle of a city was so strange, we couldn't believe the intelligence we were getting. Then, boom! West Berlin was a little island in the middle of East Germany, the Americans and the British and the French all controlling their little pieces of it. And the Soviets running the rest."

"Well, not any more." Lee nodded at the screen. The live coverage had resumed, and Billy quickly turned the sound back on. The reporter was narrating while the screen showed close-ups of the area comprising "The Wall": the actual concrete wall topped with a smooth metal pipe to make it more difficult to climb over; a no-man's land a block wide full of mines and snares; fences lined with barbed wire; and towers with armed guards overlooking the whole thing. A list of names began to scroll across the screen while the reporter noted this was only a fraction of those who died over the years trying to cross the wall from East to West Berlin. 

Lee's throat tightened, and he could feel Billy looking at him. "Don't say it," Lee said softly as his gaze dropped to the floor.

But Billy spoke anyway. "It wasn't your fault, Scarecrow."

He raised his head to meet his boss's gaze. "Yes, it was. I screwed up. I cost the lives of two men and the lives of God knows how many others. And if I'd been doing my job, that never would have happened."

Billy started to say something, but there was a knock at the door and Amanda stuck her head inside. "Hello, sir! Hello, Lee! There's a little party going on out in the bullpen if you'd care to join us. It's not every day that five o'clock rolls around and no one wants to go home!" Apparently noticing the lack of enthusiastic response, she went on, "Is something wrong?" 

Lee shook his head, trying to clear it of his gloomy thoughts. "No, we're fine. It's just . . . " He sighed. "A lot of people have made sacrifices to make this day happen. I guess we were just remembering some of them."

She nodded in understanding. "I'm sure a lot of people have been doing that." She came forward to rest a hand on Lee's shoulder. "You know, I was about Jamie's age when the Wall went up, and I remember my father being so upset, watching it on TV. I didn't really understand why anyone would want to build a wall right through a city like that, and how we could let it happen. It was probably the first time I can remember realizing the good guys don't always win. But now it's coming down, and the boys probably won't even remember what it was like, and that's," she paused to take a breath, "I guess that's kind of why we're all working here, isn't it?"

Lee and Billy exchanged a look, and Lee felt a smile spread over his face in spite of himself. Amanda might ramble, but she always had something meaningful to say. 

"You know," Billy said, rising to his feet, "I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I suppose you're right. I knew there was a reason I hadn't retired yet!" The three of them shared a laugh, and Billy motioned towards the door. "Why don't we all join the party? Amanda's right, this is a time to celebrate!" He patted Lee on the back and ushered them out of his office.

On the screen, the camera lingered on a street split down the middle by a concrete wall topped with barbed wire. On one side, houses faced the concrete, which was covered with bright graffiti protesting the Wall's existence. On the other side stood a no-man's land of cleared ground. The caption at the bottom of the screen read, "Bernauer Strasse." If Lee had still been in the room, his eyes would have narrowed at the sight. The reporter continued, "This particular street was the site of more escape attempts than any other, both successful and unsuccessful. It is unlikely we shall ever know the names of all those who died in the attempt to cross this wall, whether by scaling it or tunneling underneath it." The camera remained on the wall a moment longer, panning across the expanse of concrete, before fading to black.


	2. The Frozen Groundswell

Chapter 1: The Frozen Groundswell

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,   
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,   
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,   
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.  
--Robert Frost, "Mending Wall"

Friday, December 1, 1989 (three weeks later)  
10:30 A.M.  
East Berlin  
Alexanderplatz

The tall concrete buildings towered soullessly over the streets below, casting shadows that seemed to stretch for miles. Alexanderplatz was one of East Berlin's finest housing complexes, a conglomeration of blank-faced grey buildings near the end of the Unter den Linden, the boulevard that cut through the center of the city and until recently came to an abrupt halt at the Brandenburg Gate. From the apartment, she could just see the pale line of the Wall weaving its way from north to south, crumbled in places and completely broken through at the Gate. The streets below seemed deserted compared to a month ago. The riotous celebrations that burst out when the Wall fell had stilled. People realized that, however sweet the taste of freedom, they still had jobs to go to and work to do. It would be a while before the Wall was entirely down.

"Forever, if some have their way," she muttered as she turned away from the window. As a trained agent, she knew standing next to the window was inviting trouble, even fifteen stories up and with the December sun only barely rising above the horizon. She couldn't help but look towards the West, only a couple of kilometers away on foot but as closed to her as when the barbed wire and the mines were in place. Closed to her because of what she knew, and because she could trust no one on this side of the border with the information. 

Yet that information had to get across. The West Germans had to know about the violence a hard-core Communist group was planning if reunification talks continued at their current pace. But with the group infiltrating all levels of the East German government, she didn't know whom to trust. All she knew was that a fellow agent warned her that her name was on a list of people not allowed to leave the East. She would only be safe, her friend warned, if she stayed where she was and kept quiet. 

But she couldn't keep quiet. Though her loyalties and even her identity had occasionally become confused over the years, she knew where her responsibility lay. She did what she did for her people, the *German* people, and now was not the time to back down. She would have to find a way through.

Sitting at the small desk in the one-room apartment, shaking her long blond hair back over her shoulders, she began to write a note. She didn't know if the old codes and routines were being maintained, but she had to assume they were. For all the work the Agency did to change the world, it was conservative in some ways. Its agents wouldn't jettison their practices before it was completely obvious they were outdated, on the off chance that useful information might pass through old pipelines.

The note was nearly the same as the one she had written over nine years ago. Heavily encoded, it would be misleading to any East Germans who found it, yet perfectly understandable to the West Germans and Americans to whom it was directed. 'The beauty of working both sides,' she thought, not for the first time.

She wondered if she dared add an extra line to the note to make sure it found its way to the right man as swiftly as possible. Surely the Scarecrow hadn't changed his code name after all these years. She knew he would help once he received her message. After all, he owed her his life.

Wednesday, December 9, 1981  
1:12 P.M.  
West Berlin  
Tegel Airport

Though it was the middle of the day, the low angle of the sun in the southern sky made it feel like it was nearly sunset. As Lee headed down the metal stairway and across the tarmac to the terminal, he checked his watch to make sure it really was afternoon and he had really reset his watch to the right time zone.

As he entered the terminal, he saw a short man with a small placard reading, "Mr. Steadman." Lee walked over to him and began the sequence of recognition codes. "My boss told me there would be a limousine waiting for me, this time with *American* beer."

The man nodded. "Yes, Mr. Heinz wanted to make sure you had a pleasant journey." His English was only slightly accented, but Lee had the feeling the accent was faked, since he had been told one of the American agents stationed in Berlin would be meeting him.

"The flight from Boston was long, but at least it was smooth." Actually, it hadn't been from Boston, nor had it been smooth -- the turbulence over the Atlantic had made it nearly impossible to get any sleep. The short hop from Munich to Berlin was bumpy as well. But the sequence had to be followed.

"I trust you were able to sleep for at least four hours on the way?" The man's brush-like mustache moved up and down as he spoke, and Lee tried to keep from staring at it.

"Yes, the red wine helped me fall asleep." That wasn't true either, but it signaled the end of the sequence. Keeping in character, the man took Lee's larger carry-on, and the two proceeded towards the garage as a businessman and his driver would.

Not until they were in the car -- not a limo, Lee was disappointed to note -- and the man had run a wand over the interior to check for listening devices, did he stick out his hand to introduce himself. "Mark Peterson," he said, using his other hand to peel off the mustache. "I've been in Berlin for about three years now, with the Agency for five more. Originally from Illinois."

"Lee Stetson." They shook hands over the seat divider. "I understand you're the one who asked for me?"

Mark shook his head, his curly hair bouncing as he turned back towards the steering wheel and started the car. "Actually, our East German contact requested you. Said they wanted the best man the Agency could find for this job, since it's likely to be a little tricky. I asked around, and you were the winner."

Lee certainly didn't disagree with that assessment of his skills, but he wondered why the agents already stationed here weren't adequate for the job. West Berlin was one of the toughest postings the Agency had, and the people working here were among the best. He'd seen them in action a few months ago when he'd helped them capture Doneck and his fellow agents, unfortunately killing the East German's brother in the process. "I guess it's just that I'm used to working with my partner. I haven't done any solo missions for a few years now." 

"I think you'll find with this mission, the fewer people involved, the better." Mark paused to merge with traffic, and then went on, "You've read the briefing materials?"

"Yeah, a couple of times. I still don't understand why a Russian would travel to Berlin to defect. If he's already sneaking out of the Soviet Union, why not go all the way to the border with West Germany? Surely there are easier places to cross over than the Wall." 

"Ah, Russians." Mark shook his head. "They think they gotta make a statement, you know? The rumor is, there's information Travnik wants to pick up in East Berlin on the way, to make himself more attractive as a defector. I don't know what it is, but somebody thinks it's important enough to bring you all the way over here." 

"Hey, I'm just following orders, same as you. Besides, it looks like I have to do all the 'fun stuff' while you guys stay safely on this side of the Wall."

"Yeah, you'll change your opinion of what the fun stuff is after you meet the German you'll be working with." Lee raised his eyebrows in question, then realized Mark couldn't see his face. The other man went on, "She's a real looker."

"She?" Lee supposed he shouldn't be surprised. There were more and more female agents every year; he had been working with Francine Desmond off and on for about a year now, and Emily Farnsworth had been with MI-6 for some time. And of course, there had been Dorothy. He wrenched his mind away from her as he addressed Mark. "So you've met her?"

Mark shook his head. "Nah, just seen her picture. She's actually an East German double agent, but she never comes over to West Berlin. We've worked with her on a couple of defections before, but nothing like this. Her name's Yannah, or Jane as we'd say. Yannah Alberts. Believe me, my man, she makes a strong argument for maintaining good foreign relations, if you know what I mean."

Lee laughed obligingly. He wasn't above a little extra-curricular activity now and then, but completing the mission was the top priority. And since a double agent was involved, letting his guard down would be a particularly bad idea. "When do I meet her?"

"Not for a couple of days. Like I said, she never comes over to the West, so it'll have to wait till you get over there. Travnik is planning on our help in seven days' time, so you'll have a few days to work out the final details with us. After that, you'll cross over and do the same thing with Yannah. Then you'll bring the guy over and go home." 

"Sounds simple enough." Something didn't seem quite right, though Lee couldn't put his finger on it. Not just the fact that he was sent to do something the agents stationed in West Berlin were perfectly capable of doing. Something he read in the file before leaving home, something about Pyotr Travnik, the Russian defector. He sat back in his seat and watched the city rush by, confident his brain would make the connection sooner rather than later. He was one of the Agency's best, after all.


	3. Walking the Line

Chapter 2: Walking the Line

The gaps I mean,  
No one has seen them made or heard them made,  
But at spring mending-time we find them there.  
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;  
And on a day we meet to walk the line  
And set the wall between us once again.  
--Robert Frost, "Mending Wall"

Monday, December 4, 1989  
8:20 A.M.  
Washington, DC  
Agency Headquarters

"Come in!" Billy's voice responded to Lee's knock.

Lee turned the knob and ushered Amanda in before him. "You wanted to see us?" he asked as they took their seats. A Monday morning summons from their section chief wasn't unusual, but to have a note waiting on their desks when they arrived meant it was

particularly urgent. The two Q Bureau occupants had only taken the time to hang up their coats, not even grabbing a cup of coffee before making the trek down to their boss's office.

Billy was fussing with a pile of papers that was somewhat larger than what Lee was accustomed to seeing on his desk. "Yes, that's right. It's -- " He broke off as he turned from the pile to a second, smaller one. "Aha! It's a new assignment, something that just came up yesterday." He lifted two folders from the pile and held them out.

Lee nodded at the piles on the desk as he reached forward to take the files. "Looks like a lot of things have just come up."

Billy gave him a warning look. "Remember our conversation last month about how everything was going to get more complicated after the fall of the Wall?" When Lee nodded, he shook his head. "I had no idea."

"And this assignment is part of that, right?" Amanda had started paging through the folder. "I mean, I assume that's why we're going to Berlin."

"What!" Lee flipped open his folder and looked at the plane tickets on top of the pile. Dulles to Tegel, leaving December 5th. "Billy -- " he started, not sure which objection to voice first.

His boss was holding up his hand. "Hear me out. As you know, we've been monitoring the situation in Berlin closely for the past month. Things have been quiet since the Wall came down, for the most part. As it turns out, Helmut Kohl and Hans Modrow are scheduled to meet in a few weeks to discuss reunification of the two Germanys."

"Isn't that awfully sudden?" Amanda asked.

"Apparently you're not the only one who thinks so. We've received information from a reliable source that the old guard Communists are not necessarily willing to step down in East Germany. Not only that, they think the best way to get what they want is to disrupt the Kohl-Modrow meeting by whatever means necessary. Our source has information to put a stop to this plot, information that has to be passed in person. Unfortunately, they can't just walk across the border like everyone else, because they don't know how large

a conspiracy there is and if they might be stopped. That's where you come in."

"You keep saying 'the source,' sir. Does that mean we're going to have to find out who they are before we can help them?"

Lee had been watching Billy closely, and he thought his boss looked a little nervous. After Amanda's last question, he was sure of it. A little knot started to form in his stomach.

"The details are in the materials you've received," was Billy's reply. "Now, because you'll be leaving tomorrow, you'll need to read up on that information as soon as possible." He rose to his feet, the usual signal for them to leave his office.

Lee wasn't budging, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amanda hadn't moved, either. Turning his head towards her, he found her regarding Billy with a curious expression. "Sir, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, if you make it quick. I've got a lot to do, as you can see." His hand swept forward to indicate his desk.

"Well, it's just, I don't even know if you know you do this, but you have this habit of only addressing one of us when you're telling us something you think the other won't like to hear, and you've hardly talked to Lee since we walked in and now you're trying to get rid of us, so I was just wondering what's going on."

Billy hesitated, then gave what looked like a reluctant smile. "I can't put anything over on you, can I, Amanda?"

"Sir, I didn't say you were trying to put one over on us, I just thought it was a little strange."

"What she means is," Lee interjected, "she doesn't appreciate being the one who'll have to deal with me when I get up to the Q Bureau in a few minutes and see this." He held out a piece of paper with a photograph clipped to it. "Nice try, Billy. Now will you explain to us what the hell Yannah Alberts' picture is doing in here."

Their boss sat down heavily. "Her picture's in there because she's the source you're going to meet."

Lee clapped the folder shut. "Absolutely not."

He felt rather than saw Amanda turn toward him in puzzlement, but his eyes were focused on Billy's. The older man gave a slow nod. "I thought you'd say that. But this is not eight years ago. This is a different situation, a different city, really. And she asked for you specifically. She's done a lot for us over the years, despite what happened to you."

"You know what happened the last time I went to Berlin at her request." Lee threw himself from the chair and started to pace. "How can you even think this is legit? The situation might be different, but how do we know she's changed?"

Billy steepled his fingers under his chin. "She sent us a message yesterday using one of the old ciphers. Said you owe her your life."

"What? That's ridiculous! Look, she's the one who sold me out, me and Travnik and Sikorski. If she's stupid enough to think I'm going to go waltzing back over there and let her do it again, that's her problem."

"Maybe you weren't paying attention a few minutes ago." Billy leaned forward and rested his forearms on his desk. "There is the potential for some serious violence here. We don't know how big the operation is or where they might strike. What we do know is the Kohl - Modrow meeting has been targeted. Everything that's been accomplished in the past month with the fall of the Wall is going to be for nothing if that happens. She has more information, but she can't help us from East Germany. You're the only one she trusts to get her out."

"Oh, that's rich. She trusts me?"

Billy shrugged. "That's what her note says."

"Excuse me, sir, Lee?" Amanda broke in. "I'm feeling a little left out here. Can you explain who this Alberts person is?"

Lee sighed. "I'm sorry." Sometimes he forgot she hadn't always been his partner and didn't know about all of his past cases. This one had always stuck in his throat, for more than one reason, and he never told her about what had happened in Berlin eight years ago. Now it looked like he had no choice. "Look, the short version is, I was helping this Russian defect through East Berlin with the help of an East German double agent, Yannah Alberts. She turned us in, and Travnik got killed along with a previous defector who was helping us. I got traded for another East German who was captured here in the U.S." He dropped back into the chair next to Amanda and addressed their boss. "Do we have information from any other sources to corroborate her story?"

Billy paused, then shook his head. "Not yet, but we're working on it." At Lee's exasperated sigh, he went on. "Come on, you know how hard it is to get reliable information out of there right now. Everyone's trying to be our new best friend in East Germany, and it's hard to sort out what's for real and what's not. Give it a few days."

Amanda spoke up. "Sir, aren't there agents in West Berlin who can do this?"

"No, I'm afraid she wants Lee, and she won't deal with anyone else. However, she's going to have to deal with you, too, Amanda, because I'm not sending Lee out there by himself."

"Thank God for small favors," Lee muttered not quite under his breath.

"Scarecrow, I'm not asking you to go, I'm telling you you're going." Billy's face had the expression Lee always thought of as his "don't mess with me" look. "What happened in the past is just that, in the past. This is a simple assignment, with plenty of assistance from the West Berlin station. You'll go, you'll help Yannah over, and you'll be back in plenty of time for Christmas."

"Yeah, I seem to recall somebody telling me that eight years ago."

"Lee." Billy's tone was surprisingly gentle. "Sometimes it's good to get a chance to lay our ghosts to rest."

He raised his head and gave his boss a long look. He knew Billy was right. He wasn't reluctant to take on this mission simply because of the danger it posed, though that was certainly worthy of consideration. There were the painful memories it dredged up, too. He sighed. "All right, we'll go." Not that he had any choice, but was easier to acquiesce than to be ordered.

"Good." Billy nodded briskly. "You'll have the rest of today to put your caseload in order for the next week and hand on whatever's urgent to Francine for reassignment. I'll send someone up with a full briefing folder later this afternoon."

"All right." Lee offered his hand to Amanda as she rose from her chair, then lightly touched her back as she led him out of the office. He knew he had some explaining to do, but he was hoping to put it off as long as possible. Maybe until after this mission was over, if he had anything to say about it.

Thursday, December 10, 1981

7:55 A.M.

West Berlin field office

After taking another sip of coffee, Lee yawned and shook his head to clear it. He hadn't done much more last night than go to his hotel, eat dinner, and go to bed. Jet lag ensured he slept long enough to almost miss his morning briefing, and the faint light of dawn outside wasn't helping him wake up. He tried to focus on the folder before him as he waited for the others to arrive in the conference room. He'd been hauled all the way over here because he was supposedly the best the Agency had to offer, and damned if he was going to appear as anything but that.

Mark walked into the room and gave Lee a friendly nod. Right behind him was the station chief for West Berlin, a man Lee had seen photos of but never met. "Mr. Andrews." Lee rose and reached out his hand.

The tall man grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake. "Please, call me Stan," he said in a soft Southern accent. "It's nice to meet you, Scarecrow. I'm sorry I was out of town when you were here in September. I understand you played an important role in Doneck's capture."

"Well, I think everyone who was there did a fine job," Lee replied. "I just wish his brother hadn't been caught in the crossfire."

"Yeah, that is a shame," Stan replied as he took his seat and gestured for Lee to do so as well. "Not only could he have shared some information with us, but it's made Doneck less cooperative." As Lee opened his mouth, the older man shook his head. "It's all water

under the bridge now." He lifted up the top folder from the pile in front of him. "I heard Lucas praise you a few weeks ago, and knew you were the right man for the job."

Two other men had entered and taken their seats next to Mark. "Good, we can begin," Stan started. "Lee, you've already met Mark Peterson. This is Erik Jaeger, one of our West German counterparts," he gestured to a blond man sitting across from Lee, "and Dmitri Sikorski, a man who's been in the same position our Mr. Travnik is in now." Lee leaned over to shake the hands of both men as Andrews went on. "Erik has experience using the, uh, transit routes between East and West Berlin, and he'll be advising us on the best way to go. Dmitri, as I said, is a former resident of the Soviet Union who helps his countrymen find their way to the West. Mark will be your contact here at the Agency."

Lee tapped a finger against the side of his folder, a question instantly springing to his lips. "Is this approach the norm when dealing with defectors in Berlin? I would think the West Germans would be able to handle it."

Mark spoke up. "You're right, Lee, it is pretty unusual. But this guy's a little different. He's KGB, and like I told you, word is he's going to pick up some sort of information for the U.S. in East Berlin before he crosses over. Because of that, he's particularly valuable, and so we need Erik's expertise on getting past the Wall. Erik's also the one who knows how to contact Yannah Alberts."

"And I am here to make Travnik feel better," Dmitri said, a smile creasing his ruddy face. He went on in a slight Russian accent, "And to make you feel better if he does something that seems out of place. He is understandably nervous, and we need to make sure he does not change his mind. Someone who has been in his position may be able to advise him better than you."

Lee nodded. "Makes sense. So what's the plan?"

The station chief tossed him another folder. "Read that." Lee inwardly groaned. The folder was at least two inches thick, and much of it was written in German. Though he could speak it fluently, he hadn't had to read anything longer than a customs form for a while. Still, he wasn't about to ask for help if he didn't have to.

Stan continued as he passed out similar folders to the other three men. "You'll get a couple of days to walk around West Berlin, play the tourist, and make sure you're familiar with this side of the Wall. Then you'll cross over and meet with Alberts. She'll make arrangements for you while Jaeger's other contacts handle Travnik, and then you'll make the crossing."

"That's it?"

Stan saw his expression and smiled. "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be a piece of cake."

"Yeah," Lee scoffed. "That's why I flew all the way over here instead of you guys doing the work." Stan's smile faded away. "Why am I over here, anyway? Does it have something to do with the nature of the information Travnik's gathering?"

Stan shook his head. "We don't know what that information is. We were told," he nodded at Erik, "our contact wanted the best available American agent for this case. Now, she's never had qualms about working with just us before, so we don't know what's going on now. All I have to say is, watch yourself. This could be a trap. I understand Washington just got its hands on a top East German spy, and they'd love to get him back."

Lee nodded. He'd heard of this happening before, an agent being suckered into a mission essentially for the purpose of getting kidnapped and traded. And Lucas had given him a similar warning before he left the States. "How trustworthy is this Alberts?"

"Completely," Erik replied. "At least, as completely as any double agent can be. She is a native of Berlin, and she sees the Wall as an abomination in her city. She has some connection to whatever it is Travnik is coming to Berlin for, but whether she has the information as well, I don't know. She is not always available to help us, simply because of the nature of her situation. If there is any kind of trap here, Mr. Stetson, I am sure she is not involved."

"What about Travnik?" Lee turned to Dmitri. "Do we know for sure he's legit?"

The Russian shrugged. "I worked with him for a few years in Leningrad. He always appeared to be satisfied with his situation, but then I would hope I appeared that way, too, da? My sources tell me he has changed in recent months, become a little more nervous, and other behavior consistent with someone seeking to defect."

Lee sat back in his seat, trying to remember what it was about the briefing file that troubled him. Finally he gave up and raked his hand through his hair. Maybe something in the stack Stan gave him would jog his memory.

Stan looked at him and raised his eyebrows, as if to ask if he had any more questions. Lee shook his head, and Stan went on, "Well, it looks like you boys have enough to keep you busy for now," indicating their thick folders. "Lee, we've got a desk for you to work at today, and then tomorrow you should be out doing recon on this side of the Wall. If you have any questions, let Mark know. Otherwise, I'll see you in a little less than a week when you get back here with Mr. Travnik. Good luck!"

Lee flipped through the folder for a moment as the others cleared out of the room, pausing when he came to a photograph. 'Whoa, Mark wasn't kidding!' he thought, looking at Yannah Alberts' picture. The shot showed a woman walking down the street, her belted dress accenting what was obviously a shapely figure. Her blond hair hung nearly to her waist, much longer than Eva's, and she looked considerably taller than the Italian woman.

He abruptly shook his head. Damn it, why couldn't he get Eva out of his mind? Nearly three months had passed since she dashed into their favorite café in Venice and told him of Angelo's proposal. He'd called on all of his acting skills to wish her congratulations and the best of luck with her ESP researcher without letting her see how she had knocked the wind out of him. He remembered thinking it was a good thing he'd postponed buying the diamond ring he spotted in a jewelry shop. Closing his eyes briefly against the memory, he turned over the photograph in his hand and turned his attention back to the file. Venice was in his past; Berlin was the present.

The next photo was a close-up, and it was clear that Fraulein Alberts was, indeed, a "looker." Wide blue eyes were set evenly in a beautifully sculpted face, with high cheekbones and a long, narrow nose that stopped just short of being pointed. Whether intentionally or not, she was looking directly at the camera as the picture was taken, and he found himself captivated by her eyes. He paused to study the photograph more closely. Her expression was cool, with a hint of something that intrigued him. She looked like she was not only used to danger, but welcomed it, even thrived on it. Just like he did.

Lee felt the corner of his mouth turn up. Suddenly, he was very much looking forward to Saturday.


	4. Where We Do Not Need the Wall

Chapter 3: Where We Do Not Need the Wall  
There where it is we do not need the wall:  
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.  
My apple trees will never get across  
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.  
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.  
--Robert Frost, "Mending Wall"

Tuesday, December 5, 1989  
1:23 A.M.  
Over the Atlantic Ocean  
Lufthansa Flight 87

"Lee, did you know there are buildings in Berlin that date back to the thirteenth century? I know I've seen some old buildings before in Germany and Austria, but I don't know if they were that old. And Berlin was actually one of the most tolerant cities in Europe before Hitler came to power. It was even a haven for Jews who were being persecuted in other countries. Kind of ironic, isn't it?"

Lee restrained himself from sighing out loud. Amanda had rushed right out and bought a guidebook yesterday, eager to go on her first trip to Europe in a number of years. Somehow the spate of international assignments she'd been sent on before they were officially partners had never come around again. He assumed Billy had refrained from giving her those assignments because of her boys, and once she was his partner, his assignments stayed domestic as well. So now, she was as excited as if she were going on vacation, or at least it seemed that way. He usually loved the enthusiastic way Amanda faced the world, but sometimes his mood meant she rubbed him the wrong way.

"Amanda, you should really try and get some sleep. We'll be in Frankfurt in five hours, and then there's another flight to Berlin. You'll have plenty of time to read the guidebook once we're there."

"Oh, I know, I just want to get some background on the city," she replied. "I mean, all I know about it is that's where the Berlin Wall is, but obviously there's a lot of other history, too, and I'm always more comfortable in a strange place when I've read about it and looked at the map. It's hard enough not knowing the language, so I think I should at least be able to find my way around on a map. And this looks like a really interesting place, and I suppose we'll have a few days of waiting around, so . . ." She trailed off as she saw the look on his face. "But you probably want to get some sleep, and I should stop talking and let you do that."

He sighed. Now she thought he was mad at her, which he wasn't. He was mad at the situation, at having to go back to a city he vowed he'd never set foot in again, certainly not at the request of the woman who'd betrayed him. Part of his fury over the whole assignment stemmed from the fact that he had trusted Yannah more than he should have. What happened to Pyotr Travnik and Dmitri Sikorski was nobody's fault but his own, and the guilt had recently resurfaced after hiding in the back of his mind all these years. He had always been angry the Agency hadn't severed its ties with Alberts, but she had been valuable since his capture and subsequent release. Now, he knew he had to be extra careful around her, especially with Amanda along. A double agent who had turned once could always turn again.

"I'm sorry, Amanda." He reached over to take her hand. " Look, I told you a little about what happened when I was here before, and I should probably tell you more, but now isn't the time." She nodded in understanding, and he went on, "I promise I'll tell you more when we get there. Just try to get some rest now, okay? We're not here on vacation, you know."

She withdrew her hand. "I know that, Lee."

Too late, he realized he had touched on an old sore spot. Despite her outward self-confidence, Amanda still harbored a certain sensitivity about having come into the Agency through the back door, as it were. He hadn't put his foot in his mouth like this for some time now, which made it sting all the more. "Hey, I'm sorry." He claimed her hand again. "I'm just a little on edge with this case. It'll be all right, I promise."

She searched his eyes, and he looked back at her, trying to express his confidence in and love for her with just a look. Finally, she nodded, accepting his apology. "Why don't you get some sleep, sweetheart? I'll just read the guidebook for a little longer. I promise not to read out loud," she added with a little smile.

Lee smiled in relief. One of the things he loved about his wife was that she never stayed upset for long. With a fuse as short as his, that was a good thing. He leaned over to give her a kiss, and then nestled against the bulkhead. He was rarely successful at sleeping on a plane, but he would need all of his wits about him over the next week.

He knew he was about to drift off to sleep when he started having, not quite dreams, but strange juxtapositions in his head, visions of the past mixed up with the present. He saw a small, dark tunnel leading away from a basement, and Amanda sitting next to it on the floor, reading her guidebook. Then there was a tall woman with long blond hair, pointing a gun at him, and he flinched. His abrupt jerk brought him out of his half- asleep state, and he shifted around in his seat, trying to find something approaching a comfortable position.

In the midst of his shifting, he paused to look at Amanda to make sure he wasn't disturbing her. She had stopped reading and was tucked under her tiny airline blanket, head lolling to the side. He smiled and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "I promise, it'll be all right," he murmured, not sure if he was talking to her or to himself. Keeping his wife's face in his mind, he closed his eyes and leaned back. Within minutes he was asleep, his dreams filled with a tall blond woman and tunnels under the streets of Berlin.

Saturday, December 12, 1981  
8:53 A.M.  
Checkpoint Charlie

"Your papers, please."

Lee handed over his Canadian passport in the name of Lee Grayson. The East German border guard paged slowly through it, noting the stamps from the United Kingdom, Belgium, France, and West Germany. He scrutinized the picture, eyes moving back and forth between it and Lee's face. The American guard a few meters back hadn't looked quite so closely at his papers, but wasn't exactly surprising. "What is your business in East Berlin?" he asked in strongly accented English.

"Oh, I'm with a documentary film company in Toronto," Lee answered glibly. The guard already knew this from the paperwork Lee had filled out, but the questions still had to be asked. Any discrepancy in the written and oral answers would be grounds for refusal of entry. "We're doing a piece on great museums of Europe, and I'm here to do some location scouting. I understand Museum Island has some fantastic places. Have you been there?"

The guard did not reply, but resumed his examination of the passport. Lee rubbed his hands together as the bitter cold entered the car, watching the guards covertly. His eyes flickered around, noting the number of soldiers, where they were located, and how available their rifles were. He also saw about a dozen Dobermans being led around on short leashes, a couple of them straining to get away. It didn't seem likely that this was the route he and Travnik would be taking back in a few days' time.

On the other side of the booth in which his guard stood, a young couple climbed out of their car and waited while a pair of soldiers thoroughly checked the vehicle, including the trunk, hood, and underside. The car was so tiny it seemed unlikely the two passengers could comfortably fit inside, much less any stowaways. Two dogs sniffed around, but showed no sign of interest. Almost reluctantly, it seemed, the guards waved the couple back into their car and returned their papers.

"Why are you working on Saturday?" the guard asked abruptly. "I thought capitalists did not work on weekends."

"Hey, I wish I didn't have to," Lee replied, flashing a smile. "But the person who's showing me around has a regular job during the week. Besides, it's better to do location scouting like this with people around, a lot of museum visitors, you know? Gives you a better feel for the place."

"Hm. What is the name of the person you are meeting, and where are you meeting him?"

"Oh, let me see, I've got it here somewhere . . ." Lee turned to rummage through the briefcase sitting on the passenger seat, finally pulling out a scrap of paper. "It's, ah, Yannah Alberts. I'm meeting her at Museum Island, at the, is it Permagon Museum?"

"Pergamon. How did you arrange to meet with her?"

Lee shrugged. "My boss took care of the arrangements. I'm just following through." This part was true, unlike the rest of his story. He wondered how long he would spend wandering around East Berlin, pretending to scout out locations, before the agents he knew would be tailing him would be satisfied. The assignment was sensitive enough that the Agency thought Canadian documents would be better, especially if something were to go wrong, but the usual filmmaking cover was too good to pass up.

"Hm," the guard grunted again. "And how long are you staying?"

"Oh, just overnight, but I'm planning to come back Monday. I want to get a feel for the place, see what it looks like during the day, at night, on the weekend, all that." Lee casually waved a hand in the air. Again, technically true, though he certainly was going to be getting a feel for more of East Berlin than just its museums.

Lee rubbed his hands together again and blew on them, hoping it would get the guard to hurry up. Either it worked, or the guard couldn't think of anything else to ask, for he handed the passport back and leaned over to press the lever to raise the gate. "Welcome to East Berlin," he said in a voice devoid of irony.

"Thanks!" Rolling up his window, Lee drove past the barricades and across the Iron Curtain.

He carefully followed his directions, traveling up the broad, potholed street. The buildings were a mix of featureless concrete and glass and a few older brick structures. He knew while much of the city was destroyed by Allied bombing, the East and West sides had followed different architectural standards in rebuilding, with the East emphasizing cheap, uniform concrete structures. It made for a consistently ugly landscape.

Eventually, he turned onto a wide boulevard, heading through the campus of Humboldt University with its older, classical-style buildings. In his rearview mirror he could see the famous Brandenburg Gate with the Wall circling around behind it, cutting off West Berlin from the most famous symbol of the city. He drove over a bridge spanning the Spree River and onto Museum Island, home to the city's most well-known museums. Challenged again at the entrance to the museum parking lot, he showed his passport and explained his "assignment." The guard told him to pull over to the side and wait for him to call Fraulein Alberts at her office.

Lee drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, once again surveying his surroundings. The buildings around him were of monumental stature, reminiscent of the Smithsonian buildings he was used to on the Mall. He knew one of them was a museum of archeology, built to house giant ruins from ancient Greece and Babylon. Another held works of art, though he wasn't sure what the Communist government considered acceptable "art." He wondered how often people visited these museums, and if traveling around the country for something so simple as being a tourist was allowed under East German rule.

He saw a figure approaching to his right a second before the knock at the passenger window. "Mr. Grayson?"

"Yes?" he responded as he leaned over and rolled down the window.

Lee found himself staring up into the most remarkable pair of eyes he had ever seen. So much brighter and clearer than -- he cut off that thought as she spoke. "I'm Yannah Alberts." She offered a gloved hand through the window. "I understand you are visiting from Toronto."

"Lee Grayson. Actually, I'm here from Scarborough." He reached out to take her hand, smoothly bringing her hand to his lips and bestowing a kiss on the back of the leather glove. It wasn't part of the recognition sequence, but it seemed appropriate. "Pleased to meet you."

She gave him a cool smile and withdrew her hand. "Is the weather warmer in Canada than in Berlin?"

He should have known. Germans had to do everything in the proper order. "Yes, though there is more snow."

She gave him a slight nod of approval. "May I?" she asked, gesturing towards the car.

"Of course." He reached out to unlock the door and tossed his briefcase into the backseat. As Yannah climbed in, he noticed a faint floral scent. Something one of his former girlfriends had worn . . . jasmine, he thought. She rolled the window back up, sealing the cold air outside, and he took advantage of the opportunity to examine her more closely. Her long blond hair flowed from under her broad-brimmed hat and across the high collar of her dark wool coat. Her face was just as beautiful in profile, with high cheekbones and full, red lips. As his eyes tracked downwards, he noted the cut of the coat accentuated her fine --

"If you'll drive straight ahead, I can show you where to park." Her voice broke into his thoughts, a trace of amusement in her tone. His eyes snapped up to hers, but he refused to show even a hint of embarrassment. Indeed, he had to fight to restrain a grin as he noticed her eyes raking over him with the same appreciative gaze he had been giving her. So he gave her his most charming smile and said, "Yes, ma'am!"

They drove on into a parking lot, and Yannah directed him to a space. He hurriedly climbed out and walked around to open her door. "Thank you," she said as he offered her a hand, and she kept her hand in his just a second longer than she had to. Was it his imagination, or had her thumb stroked across his fingers as she let go?

He mentally shook his head and reached in his pockets for his gloves. 'Business first, pleasure later,' he reminded himself. He was ostensibly here to scout locations, not women. First he had to play the part of a filmmaker, then satisfy his Agency role, then, if there was time . . . who knew what might happen? Maybe a new woman was the key to getting his mind off the old one. He certainly didn't think he'd mind getting to know this one better.

"Where would you like to begin?" Yannah asked in her throaty voice.

He glanced at her and was caught by the challenge in her eyes. She was as fully aware of the attraction between them as he was. He didn't think he'd ever been so instantly taken by a woman, even Eva. This could be an interesting assignment after all. He met her gaze and replied, "I'm counting on you to lead the way, Fraulein."

"Please, call me Yannah," she replied, leaning a little closer. In a whisper she breathed, "You understand the men tailing you expect me to flirt with the handsome Canadian."

A pang of disappointment shot through him, but he replied in an undertone, looking down as he pulled on his gloves, "You mean the men who think I'm a filmmaker or the ones who think I'm a spy?"

Her amused smile caught his eye. "I'm not sure anyone is fooled by the cover, Mr. Stetson," she murmured. "But it is best to keep up appearances, don't you think?"

He nodded, holding her gaze for a few seconds longer than he had to. Then motioning toward the museums, he asked, "Well, shall we?" while offering her his arm.

They walked around the exteriors of the buildings until his feet were frozen. There were three museums in all, each built in the classical style of marble columns and Greek friezes. He'd had enough of pretending to look for just the right angle for a camera shot, and only a small portion of his thoughts were devoted to that cause. The remainder were focused on the woman at his side. In her heeled boots, Yannah was nearly as tall as him, and the wind occasionally caught her long hair and sent it drifting into his face, intensifying the scent of jasmine. For the most part, she acted businesslike, pointing out vistas and suggesting places where museum visitors congregated, but occasionally placed her hand on his arm or cast a sly glance from under her lashes.

They headed inside and repeated the process, strolling through the collections. Though Lee was not generally a fan of antiquities, he was impressed by the partially-restored temple from the Greek city of Pergamon, as well as the blue-tiled Ishtar Gate, stretching over two stories high. He was accustomed to museums being collections of broken pottery and faded tapestries, not places where ancient temples and marketplaces were restored and rebuilt at life size.

Finally, he thought he actually could shoot a reasonably good documentary of Museum Island if he had to. The December sun was slanting low across the sky by the time they finished for the day. He hadn't noticed anyone tailing them for the past couple of hours, but it still paid to be careful. Reaching his car again, they paused by the passenger door.

"I understand you have more work to do here tomorrow, Mr. Grayson. Do you have a place to stay, or are you crossing back to the West for the night?" she asked, smoothing her gloves over the backs of her hands.

"Well, my boss did reserve a room for me at a hotel down the street, but he often has less than spectacular taste when it comes to hotels." He mentally crossed his fingers before going on, "Perhaps you could recommend a better place?"

The lift of one eyebrow told him she knew what he was really asking. "I might be able to do that," she said slowly. He tilted his head in response, and she went on, "Maybe you would be so kind as to join me for dinner?"

"The pleasure would be all mine, Fraulein. My boss's taste in restaurants is no better than his taste in hotels."

Her intense gaze was warming him despite the cold wind whipping off the river. "That's strange, since you seem like a man of excellent taste yourself."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Perhaps after dinner you'll be better able to judge how good my tastes are."

Now both eyebrows were raised, but the look she gave him told him she approved of his suggestion. "If you would be so kind." She gestured towards the car door.

"Of course." Opening the door, he took her hand to assist her into the car, again brushing his lips over the back of her hand, this time long enough that the faint taste of leather lingered in his mouth. He closed the door and headed for his side of the car, excitement starting to build in anticipation of what the evening might bring.

Some hours later, Lee stood at the window of Yannah's apartment, a glass of red wine in one hand. Dinner had been pleasant; she was a fine cook, and the electronic wand she swept around the apartment as soon as they entered ensured they could talk safely. They briefly discussed the current mission, Yannah giving him the details about where and when he and Travnik would make the crossing. The location was about a mile to their north, on a street whose houses backed onto the Wall opposite the well-known Bernauer Strasse on the West side. The time would be late at night, not so late they would be the only people on the street, but after most people were at home. There were warning signals to heed -- a light in a certain window, a curtain pulled just so over another. And Sikorski would be waiting in the tunnel to shepherd them to safety.

Then they seemed to mutually agree to discuss other topics. She told him about growing up in East Berlin and the counterintuitive idea that escape to the West here meant sneaking into a relatively small place surrounded by hostile territory. He, in turn, told her a bit about his life growing up with his uncle, telling humorous stories about his escapades as a kid. She laughed easily, and he felt his attraction to her growing by the minute.

It wasn't just physical attraction, either. He'd never met anyone who seemed to understand so well where he was coming from, why he loved his job, and the difference he felt he was making in the world. Even Dorothy had laughed at him for sounding idealistic sometimes, and Eva, as a university research assistant, had never seemed to understand his world of danger and intrigue. Though a great deal of his idealism had died with Dorothy, he still found himself telling Yannah he thought he was using his talents in the best way possible, and he and people like the two of them could really make the world a better place. She had smiled in response and said, "That is why I do what I do. I love my city, and I love my people, and I will do whatever it takes to see them made whole again."

Now he was waiting for her to put away the rest of the food and join him in the living room. He was surprised at the nervous knot in his stomach, for he'd stayed after dinner at a woman's apartment on many previous occasions. He'd even been with a few women since Eva, not that they had been more than one-night stands. But there was something about Yannah that captured his attention. He knew getting involved with the East German was a dangerous proposition, both in terms of his current mission and in other ways as well. But he still found it hard to wait for her, and he strolled to the window to check out the view.

The apartment was one among many in a cluster of concrete high-rises: socialist architecture at its finest. She was fortunate enough to have not only a view, but a view facing west. He looked out over the city, eyes instantly searching for the Wall. It wasn't hard to find; banks of searchlights outlined its length as it wound like a snake through the city. On the far side, though it might have been a trick of his imagination, the streetlights seemed to burn more brightly. He sighed and rested a hand against the windowsill. What must it be like to live here and see freedom so close, and yet so far?

His thoughts were cut off as he became aware of her presence. There was that soft floral scent, but it was something else that made every inch of his body suddenly aware of her presence right behind him. She stood there for a moment, not moving, and he could feel his heart beating faster. Then she reached over his shoulder to close the drapes, her lips pausing next to his ear. "At this point," she murmured in her husky voice, "as a good East German spy, I should be seducing you and getting you to tell me all of your secrets, Scarecrow." He saw the reflection of her blue eyes sparkling in the window before she slowly pulled the curtains shut, trapping him between her arms. "After all, my superiors want me to spend as much time with you as possible to determine what a known American agent is doing in East Berlin."

Lee casually reached out to set his drink down on a small table, turning his head so their faces were nearly touching. "Far be it from me to keep you from your duties, Fraulein Alberts."

Her hands came to rest against his shoulders, turning him around to face her. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment. He was struck again by her beautiful face, her intensely blue eyes. They held the same expression as in the photograph, the look that said she lived for the dangerous potential of moments like this.

Then he saw something else in their depths, a hint of the same deeper attraction he knew was reflected in his own face. "Lee," she said softly, raising her face towards his.

He whispered, "I'm all yours," closing his eyes as their lips met.


	5. Walling In and Walling Out

Chapter 4: Walling In and Walling Out

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know   
What I was walling in or walling out,   
And to whom I was like to give offence.   
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,   
That wants it down.  
--Robert Frost, "Mending Wall"

Wednesday, December 6, 1989  
1 P.M.  
West Berlin  
Tegel Airport

Amanda yawned as they stepped out of the jetway and into the terminal. As Lee turned towards her, she held up a hand. "Don't even say it, Stetson. I shouldn't have spent so much time reading the guidebook."

Caressing her upper arm, he said, " Actually, I was going to suggest you take a little nap when we get to the hotel. I can handle the briefing myself and fill you in later."

She shook her head. "Nope, I'm here to watch your back, and that's what I'm going to do," and she slipped her hand into his.

Squeezing her hand, he steered her towards the escalator to take them to the baggage claim area, where they were to meet their contact. "All right, partner. Just don't fall asleep during the briefing, okay?"

He sensed her reproachful look, but his gaze was fixed on the men waiting at the bottom of the escalator with white placards bearing various names. He found the one reading "Mr. Sampson" with little difficulty. They ran through the recognition codes like clockwork, and were soon off to the garage.

Lee had a strong sense of déjà vu as he watched their driver sweep the inside of the car for bugs before letting them enter. 'I'm sure it won't be the last time on this mission,' he thought as he helped Amanda into the back seat and then slid in next to her.

"Good afternoon," the man said over his shoulder as he started the car. "I'm Brian Anders, senior field agent for the Agency here in West Berlin. Or Berlin, maybe I should say. The times, they are a-changin'."

"How easy is it to go back and forth between the two Berlins?" Amanda leaned forward in her seat.

"Oh, there's still a border checkpoint, but for the most part they'll just wave you on through if you have a passport or identity card. I gotta tell you, that's one thing that's troubling me about this assignment." He cast a glance back at them in his rearview mirror. "I don't understand why this Alberts woman needs to take the old-fashioned way over to the West. I mean, there are East Germans going back and forth every day now. But I understand you have a previous acquaintance with her, Lee."

"You could say that." He could feel Amanda looking at him, so he hurried on, "I understand she doesn't feel safe crossing the border."

Anders shrugged as he made a left turn, taking them onto a wide boulevard lined with six-story brick apartment buildings, all with steep, pointed roofs. "Could be. We're still checking out her story, but if she's right, I can see if she doesn't want to risk it. The East German secret police have been recruiting big time the past year or so, so it's harder than ever to know who you can trust. A couple of the old escape routes haven't been pointed out to the press yet. I'm sure we can get you through one of those."

"What do you mean, get *us* through?" Lee asked. "I thought there was no problem with us walking back and forth across the border."

"She's insisting on being accompanied all the way through, and she says she doesn't trust anyone but you to do it. Sorry, Mrs. Stetson, but I'm afraid her mistrust includes you, too."

Lee sank back in his seat with a soft snort. This was really ridiculous. How could this be anything but a trap? As if he had spoken aloud, Anders went on, "I *am* a bit concerned, which is why I came to meet you myself. I've read the report on what happened when you were here in '81, and I understand you're worried about history repeating itself. Now, Yannah Alberts has been a good source for us over the years, with your assignment as the lone exception."

"So why did you go back to working with her after she betrayed Lee?" Amanda asked incredulously.

"Oh, we didn't know it was her for several years; the information came anonymously." Brian paused to make a turn and then went on, "But for about four years now, she's been one of our best sources in East Berlin. She's never referred to you before this week, Lee, and we've never asked."

"I still can't believe you trust her," Amanda fumed, and Lee laid a hand on her arm. It was funny being the one trying to calm her down, instead of the other way around. He kind of liked it when her protective nature came out, though. It reminded him he had someone to watch his back now. Or at least that he usually did. He was uncomfortable with Yannah's insistence on working with him alone. On the other hand, he had a protective streak, too, and he'd prefer Amanda to be safely out of the line of fire. He might have gotten used to her being in danger, even gotten used to her handling a gun, but he still didn't like it.

"So what's the plan?" he asked Anders while sliding his hand down his wife's arm to entwine his fingers with hers. She gave him a small smile, and he squeezed her hand in response.

"Well, you get a couple of days to get rid of the jet lag and help us work out a strategy. Today's Wednesday. Saturday, you'll cross over and meet with Yannah, give her the basic plan. Then there's still going to be a couple of days before the actual crossing on Monday. If all goes well, you'll be headed for home within a week."

'Where have I heard that before?' Lee thought. He gave Amanda's hand another squeeze and turned towards the window.

They were nearing the center of the city, rolling through the vast expanse of the Tiergarten. Unable to nap on the flight from Frankfurt, he had paged through Amanda's guidebook and read that during World War II, when the city was under siege, the forest in this huge city park was almost entirely chopped down for fuel. Looking at it now, he realized that without reading the book, he would have had no idea the hundreds of trees he saw were so new. Amazing what kind of regeneration could occur in the space of half a lifetime. What would the city itself would look like forty years from now, once it knitted itself back together after being so brutally divided?

He suddenly remembered talking to Yannah about this very topic. With a passion he found unusual in Germans, she had insisted that East and West Berlin longed to be reunited, that as soon as the chance came, Berliners would come together and make their city whole again. He argued that years of mistrust might not be overcome so easily, that West Germans might harbor suspicion for the East Germans who prevented their fellows from escaping to the West. Then, he remembered, she rose up on one elbow, her long hair falling forward to sweep over his bare chest, and said, "There is a kind of trust that goes deeper than national borders. People may have to do things they do not want to for a time, but when that time passes, they will come together again. Any perceived mistrust or betrayals won't matter anymore."

At the time, he hadn't taken her too seriously, quite possibly because of what they had been doing for the hour before that particular conversation started, and what they resumed doing shortly thereafter. It wasn't until later, when he was finally on his way home to the U.S., that her words came back to him. He had angrily brushed them aside, considering them bitterly ironic in light of her later actions. Now, though, he realized there might have been a hidden message in what she said. Had she been asking for forgiveness before the fact? He sighed and stared out at the park, wondering if he was going to be able to get over his distrust of Yannah enough to work with her, and wondering yet again why she asked so specifically for him.

He was definitely not looking forward to Saturday.

  
Monday, December 14, 1981  
9:05 A.M.  
Checkpoint Charlie  
West Berlin side

Once again, Lee found himself driving past the sign that read "You are now leaving the American sector" in the four languages of occupied Berlin. He handed over his Canadian passport to the guard, assuming a bored expression while again assessing the security around the checkpoint. He'd been correct in assuming he and Travnik would not be taking this route back, but it was an ingrained habit to be aware of his surroundings and all possible escape routes. You never knew what could happen.

'No, you sure didn't,' he thought, the last two days replaying in his mind. Yannah had been . . . well, let's just say the stereotype of cold and proper Germans definitely did not apply. He found himself hoping tonight's plan failed so he could gaze into those blue eyes at close range again. Maybe there was some way he could persuade her to make the crossing with him. He'd even briefly broached the subject with her, but she'd only laughed and ducked back under the covers, quickly making him lose interest in anything but her hands and her --

'Watch it, Stetson,' he warned himself. Falling for *any* woman was dangerous in this business. He'd learned that bitter lesson years ago at an airfield in Maryland. Falling for a double agent was even worse. 'Not that I'm *falling* for her,' he insisted to himself. 'Just . . . having a good time.'

'Is that why you couldn't drag yourself out of her apartment on Sunday till nearly noon?' a little voice said. 'Some film director you'd make, wasting half the light!'

He was about to make a mental rebuttal when something caught his attention. A car was approaching the checkpoint from the Eastern side, and instantly he realized there was something strange about the car, though at first he couldn't place it. It was the same shoddy-looking Trabant that was visible everywhere. The figure behind the steering wheel wasn't noteworthy, clad in the same shapeless coat and hat most East Berliners wore. No, what was strange was the speed of the car. It wasn't slowing as it approached the checkpoint.

He realized this only a fraction of a second before the guards did. After instinctively reaching for his weapon, he deliberately froze and made himself wrap his hands around the steering wheel. If he thought he stood a chance against soldiers armed with machine guns, he was insane. If he did anything to draw attention to himself right now, he was probably dead. All he could do was watch helplessly as the car barreled closer and closer, while the soldiers went down on one knee and aimed their guns at the driver.

The loud clatter of machine guns shattered the stillness, and he clenched his grip on the wheel. This was definitely not good. Not only did the poor guy in the car not stand a chance, but now Lee's entire mission was in jeopardy. His presence here as a foreigner at Checkpoint Charlie at the exact time someone tried to escape by crashing the gate would be highly suspicious. Worse, police patrols along the Wall increased immediately following any escape attempts. Tonight's attempt was definitely out, and it would be difficult to try anything later in the week. 

The car accelerated in response to the shots, and the driver had apparently ducked behind the dashboard. The steering grew a little erratic, but the car was still headed straight for the main gate. Then there was a sharp report from one of the sentry towers. The rifle bullet punched through the top of the car, and the vehicle slewed violently to the right. It crashed through one set of gates, then rolled over into the no-man's-land between the two concrete walls.

Lee knew the area was littered with mines designed to be triggered by the weight of a human being. So it was no surprise when, a few seconds later, the still-rolling car suddenly exploded, sending metal shards flying through the air. He dove to the passenger seat, his windshield cracking a second later as the rearview mirror of the exploded car came sailing into it. A fireball rose into the sky, the heat briefly replacing the December chill. Then there was silence except for the crackling of the flames.

The silence was suddenly replaced by shouts of "Halt! Halt!" He cautiously raised his head and looked in the rearview mirror to see a soldier sprinting towards West Berlin. He turned around to see whom the man was chasing. How could anyone have made it out of that car? Then he realized the soldier was the one being chased, taking advantage of the failed escape attempt to make his own way to freedom. He watched as a handful of American soldiers came out of their guardhouse, shouting and encouraging the man on, and he clenched his own fists in a kind of a prayer.

The East German put on a burst of speed when the rattle of machine guns echoed again off the surrounding buildings. His own gun banged against his back as he leapt into the air like a hurdler, clearing a roll of barbed wire. Then the American soldiers cheered and whooped as the man staggered up to them, and Lee felt a grin break out over his own face. Man, that was really something. He knew no matter how hard the Agency was working to bring about the fall of the Berlin Wall, and indeed, the entire Iron Curtain, plenty of brave individuals took matters into their own hands from time to time. His grin died as the smoke from the still-flaming car cast a shadow across the sun. Sometimes, however, those individuals were a little too brave for their own good. He just hoped this wouldn't ruin Travnik's chance.

His thoughts were abruptly cut off by the barrel of a machine gun poking in his window. "Okay, take it easy," he said, spreading his hands across the steering wheel. "I take it this means I won't be going to Museum Island today?"

His response was his passport tossed in his face and the machine gun withdrawn from the window, but still pointed at him. "Not today, and not tomorrow," the guard snapped. "Turn around and leave." 

He sighed. With no other options, he rolled up his window and obeyed.

As he put the car into reverse and headed back into West Berlin, he was astonished to find the first thought in his mind was not concern over how he was going to contact Travnik, but regret that he wouldn't get to see Yannah. 'God, get a grip, man,' he thought as he turned the car around. 'You just saw living, and dying, proof of why this mission is so important, and you're getting hung up on a woman? You know what happened last time you let someone get to you like that.'

Lee shoved back memories of blood-stained roses as he drove past the still-cheering Americans and the out-of-breath East German. He'd have to try again tomorrow, despite what the guard said. Travnik was running out of time.


	6. One on a Side

  
  
Chapter 5: One on a Side

We wear our fingers rough with handling them.   
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,   
One on a side. It comes to little more.  
--Robert Frost, "Mending Wall"

Thursday, December 7, 1989  
9:15 A.M.  
West Berlin   
Hotel Alexander

Dawn finally seeped through the blinds of the hotel room, finding Lee sprawled on his back with Amanda's head nestled on his shoulder. He slowly came to consciousness, looking down to find her big brown eyes gazing back at him. "Morning, big fella." She craned her head forward to give him a kiss.

"Mm, morning," he replied, pulling her closer. After the shortest of briefings yesterday, they had retired to the hotel with a stack of files to review. Amanda had managed to keep her eyes open until about seven, and Lee's concentration had waned at about the same time. Their early bedtime went a long way towards reducing the inevitable jet lag, but he still felt a little groggy.

When they ended the kiss, Amanda pulled back and raised herself up on one elbow. "Rough night?" she asked, toying with his hair.

"No, not particularly." He vaguely recalled being troubled by a dream, but he couldn't remember now what it was about.

"Hm." She looked down at his chest. 

He could tell something was bothering her, and he raised a finger to her chin, forcing her to look at him. "What is it? Did you sleep okay?"

"I slept fine," she reassured him. Then her eyes dropped again. "Well, except for when you woke me up. Must have been some dream you were having, Stetson."

Uh-oh. Lee knew he occasionally said things in his sleep that he would rather Amanda not hear. He knew she was fully aware of his checkered past, and she didn't hold it against him, but situations like these were still awkward. So he played with the frill of lace at the collar of her nightgown as he asked, "What woke you?"

She sighed, her fingers still fidgeting with his hair. "Look, I know it was just a dream, and you know I got over being jealous of any of your past girlfriends years ago. It shouldn't bother me, but . . ." She sighed again. "You said Yannah's name, and it sounded like you were, well . . ."

Ordinarily, he found it cute how she still refused to speak openly about sex, even after bearing two children and being happily married to him for nearly three years. But this was different. He echoed her sigh. 'This is why they don't want partners to get romantically involved,' he thought. 'No matter how hard we try, there's always the danger of it getting in the way of our job.'

"Look," she went on, as if she heard his thoughts. "I know it isn't very professional of me, and I'm not going to let it get in the way of the case. I promise. But," and she lifted a hand as he started to speak, "you promised me you'd tell me what happened when you were here before. I think it's pretty obvious you and Yannah were close, and that had something to do with what happened. We don't have to be anywhere till after noon, so I think now is as good a time as any."

He slowly nodded. "All right." He tugged at her arm so she was again half lying on top of him. "Not that there's much to tell, I suppose. I already told you the short version -- I failed at getting this Russian defector out. He and another man were killed and I was captured because Yannah Alberts turned us in."

"And you're sure it was her?" 

"Yeah, it was pretty hard to mistake the woman marching me to an East German prison at gunpoint." He felt her arm tighten in a reassuring squeeze.

"After you had been . . . involved?"

He sighed. "Yeah."

There was silence for a moment. Then she said, "Tell me about her."

He looked down at the top of her head. "Really?" Amanda never asked about any of his four black books' worth of women, just a question or two about Dorothy. He always figured she didn't want to know, or felt it irrelevant because of the man he had become. But then there were only three women who really affected him before Amanda. She had been invaluable to him when Eva re-entered his life and when Dorothy seemingly returned from the dead, so it was only fair she know the whole story about Yannah as well.

Amanda raised her head to meet his gaze. "Really." The look in her eyes said more, that she trusted him, and she really wanted to know. Not just from the professional point of view, since she was going to be working with his former flame in some capacity, but because they were still best friends, after all.

He gave her a gentle smile. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

An answering smile graced her lips. "Don't change the subject, Scarecrow," she said, but her tone was gentle.

He leaned forward and gave her a peck on the lips. Then he grew serious. "I'd never met anyone like her." Amanda propped her chin on her fist to look into his eyes, but he was gazing into the distance of his memories. "She was so much like me. She told me her parents died when she was young and she was raised by her grandmother. They lived in the eastern half of Berlin, and when she wasn't even a teenager, the Wall went up. Her grandmother hated it, and so she grew up hating it too. I had the suspicion she joined the East German Stasi just so she could _be_ a double agent."

Amanda's eyes widened. "How long was she a double agent?"

"Nearly her entire career. She joined the Stasi a few years before I came to the Agency, and she managed to establish contact with the West about the same time I started my training. I'd been working for the Agency for about seven years when I got the assignment. I knew it might be a trap, but from the moment I saw her, I trusted her. She just -- she reminded me of myself so strongly. I saw that same love of excitement, the same attitude that it didn't matter what happened: she was good enough to evade danger, she was one of the best. I felt she was like . . . like a kindred spirit."

"Not quite like the way we met," she teased.

"No, you had to be persuaded you're one of the best." He noticed a soft blush spreading on her cheeks. It had taken him a while to realize she had talent rather than just blind luck on her side. And it had taken him a few more years to convince her of that as well, that she fully earned the praise she now regularly received

But there was more to his story. "So I let my guard down. Not just, you know . . ." His wife's reticence on certain matters made him a little hesitant to speak of them as well. "I trusted her, and I shouldn't have. I was wondering when I would see her again after the assignment was over, even as we were starting our escape. I didn't check out the situation ahead of time because I trusted her to do it, and that was what cost me the mission." 

"And what broke your heart," she said quietly.

He looked down at her. "I never really thought of it that way." He absently stroked her arm. Was that what happened? Was it a broken heart that led to the Scarecrow having a woman in every port and never really trusting any of them?

"Yeah, I know. Not a big tough guy like you," she said with an understanding smile.

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Something like that, I suppose. I mean, I'd just gotten over Eva choosing Angelo over me, and here was someone who *deliberately* sold me out without batting an eye. I guess I subconsciously vowed never to get close to a woman again." He met her steadfast gaze. "But somehow you got around that."

"Took me long enough." She caressed his cheek.

"Hey, I think it's been worth the wait, Mrs. Stetson." He leaned over to press his lips to hers.   
  
"Mm-hm." When they drew apart, she gave him a serious look. "Did you ever find out why she did what she did?"

"I always assumed she had to keep her cover, that she found out we were going to get caught and she had to save her own skin. I just wished it hadn't meant Travnik and Sikorski lost their lives."

"And that you hadn't been traded for another agent," she said with a knowing look.

"Yeah, that too." He sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling. "We'd just caught a pretty important East German agent in the States who had a lot of information about an upcoming revolt in Hungary. They had to let him go before they could get anything useful, and we got word a few months later that the revolt was quashed before it began. A couple dozen people were killed, and it might not have happened if I hadn't been captured and traded."

"Now, you don't know that." She raised herself on her elbow again.

He shrugged one shoulder. "It doesn't really matter." 

She opened her mouth, then hesitated. He raised his eyebrows encouragingly, and she went on, "Lee, do you . . . do you think it's going to be a problem, working with Yannah? I mean, we have to trust her to some extent, and I think you have good reason not to, despite what Brian said yesterday."

He sighed. "Sweetheart, I've been asking myself that same question ever since Billy gave us the assignment." Lee noticed her little smile at his endearment. It took him a while to warm up to the idea of using a pet name for Amanda, but once he did, he found he liked it. He went on, absentmindedly stroking her upper arm, "I really don't know. I can't believe she'd be so stupid as to try the same trick twice. She must know I trust her about as far as I can throw her. And yet she says I'm the only one she can trust." He shook his head. "I just don't get it."

"Well, just remember I'm here for you. " She snuggled back against his side. "For whatever you might need."

"Oh really?" he asked in a playful tone, one hand creeping under the collar of her nightgown to caress her back. At her raised eyebrow, he gave her his most innocent expression. "But you just said . . ."  
  
"You, Scarecrow, are going to get yourself in trouble." She belied her words by trailing a hand up and down his bare chest.

He Lee felt a grin creeping across his face. "You did say no one expects us anywhere until after noon, didn't you?"

Her smile matched his. "I did," she purred, reaching up to press her lips to his.

When the kiss ended, he murmured, "Then I'm all yours," before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her on top of him.

  
Wednesday, December 16, 1981  
9:30 P.M.  
East Berlin  
7 Schoenholzer Strasse

Lee shivered and rubbed his hands together for what seemed like the twentieth time. If Travnik didn't show up soon, they were going to have to try the escape tomorrow night, making it the third night in a row after his failure to get into East Berlin on Monday. He'd been waiting since ten o'clock, and the bitter December wind combined with the increasingly deserted streets was making it unwise to wait much longer. 

He couldn't even leave his doorway to pace around and keep warm; the sentries in the guard tower a block away would wonder what a man was doing loitering in this neighborhood on such a cold night. Last night when he'd passed by this corner, he'd been warned off by a pre-arranged signal in the window across the street. Now it looked like tonight was going to be a bust as well, and he wasn't sure how many more chances they'd have. The longer Travnik's "visit" to East Berlin went, the more suspicious his KGB superiors were likely to be, and the less likely it was he'd be able to get away.

A movement caught his eye, and he looked to his left to see a man in a shapeless black coat hurrying down the empty street. Lee shrank back against the cold brick of the doorway as the man approached, pulling something from his pocket.

A few steps away, the man paused. "Scarecrow?" he asked softly in a Russian accent.

"Here," Lee whispered from the shadows.

Pyotr Travnik came forward and used the key from his pocket to open the door next to Lee. "My apologies, *komrad,*" he said in a low tone. "I had some difficulty getting away unseen." 

"No problem," Lee muttered, slipping inside just ahead of him. 'It shouldn't take more than half an hour before I feel my fingers again,' he thought, pausing to let the warmth of the building flow into him.

Once inside the apartment building, they headed down the narrow stairs, where Lee produced his own key to unlock the basement door. The two men paused, one on either side of the door. "Ready?" Lee asked, reaching behind him for his gun.

The Russian nodded. "I have been waiting for this moment a long time." He drew a revolver as well and jerked his head, indicating Lee should go first.

Lee took a deep breath. This was the part of the plan he was most nervous about, not having checked the interior of the building ahead of time. It was immediately adjacent to the Wall, and though the windows on that side had long since been bricked over to prevent a literal leap to freedom, it was still a prime location for tunnel digging. Any unnecessary visits on his part would have jeopardized not only the inhabitants of the building, but anyone who was aware of this particular escape route. More than one escape to West Berlin had been foiled by the East German police taking notice of large numbers of visitors to a particular building, especially after dark. He had been . . . otherwise occupied while the building's inhabitants were returning home from work tonight, when he would have been able to safely check the building. Yannah had assured him, however, that this route was unknown to the authorities, and it would get them safely under the Wall. Tightening his grip on his weapon, he opened the door and stepped inside.

By the light from the bare bulb in the stairwell behind them, he saw a relatively small storage area, filled with boxes. Lee looked around before finding a light switch next to the door and flicking it on. The light revealed an empty bookshelf to his right, the only object resting against that wall. After pausing to orient himself, he jerked his head towards the bookshelf. "That's the direction of West Berlin."

"The direction of freedom." Travnik smiled as he gestured towards the bookshelf. "Please. I am afraid I injured my back recently and can not bear even the weight of a simple bookcase."

"All right." Lee stowed his gun and took hold of the bookcase, finding it wasn't as heavy as it looked. He easily pushed it along the wall, revealing a two-foot hole in the wall, leading into darkness. As he cocked his head towards the tunnel, he listened for a moment, but heard nothing. Brushing the dust off his hands, he smiled encouragingly at Travnik. "After you." He stepped back and motioned towards the tunnel. Sikorski would be waiting at the other end to help Travnik with his literal as well as figurative passage to the West. The end was in sight.

There was a noise from upstairs, and Lee and Pyotr looked at each other. The door to the outside was creaking open, and he could hear the footsteps of at least two people. Lee didn't know how normal it was for the basement light to be on in this building, but he didn't want to take the chance any curious residents would discover them there. "Come on, let's go!" he hissed, drawing his gun and looking over his left shoulder at the door. He'd need to pull the bookcase back over the opening as soon as they were inside and hope the overhead light wouldn't arouse any suspicions.

He didn't hear Travnik moving towards the tunnel, and he impatiently turned his head to see why. His heart sank when he saw an East German military officer taking his final step out of the tunnel. His revolver was pointed at the Russian, who had his hands in the air. "Your weapon, please," he said coldly, holding out a hand to Lee.

While Lee was debating the possibility of shooting the East German before Travnik was shot, the sound of footsteps on the stairs caught his attention. The officer in front of them allowed a small smile to creep onto his face, and as Lee turned to see two more East Germans entering the room, guns drawn, he knew why.

Lee closed his eyes, jaw angrily clenching in defeat. How had the East Germans known? Damn it, now Pyotr was as good as dead when they sent him back. He had a bad feeling about Sikorski as well, since the first man had come out of the tunnel where Dmitri was supposed to be waiting. And once the soldiers discovered they had the American spy, Scarecrow, his prospects weren't too good, either. He tossed his gun to the floor, moving next to Travnik as his captor commanded, facing the dark aperture of the tunnel.

Then it became apparent he didn't have long to wonder what was in his future. "On your knees." The harsh words were accompanied by a hand grasping Lee's shoulder and shoving him down to the cold concrete. Next to him, Travnik was being forced down in the same fashion by the other man who had come down the stairs. Lee felt the barrel of a silencer pressing against his skull and swallowed down panic. Things had gone bad so quickly, he hadn't even had time to think about what went wrong, much less come up with any sort of escape plan. Now it was looking increasingly unlikely he ever would. 

The man who had come out of the tunnel stood before them, hands clasped behind his back. The insignia on his uniform identified him as a lieutenant, and the look on his face was cold and satisfied. "I wish I could say, gentlemen, that at least your three names will be preserved for posterity among those who have attempted to infiltrate the GDR by breaching the Wall. But I'm sure you understand that can not happen in this case."

Lee's hopes were completely dashed. If Sikorski had already been killed, he and Travnik weren't likely to be hauled away for interrogation. Dmitri had made it clear he would be the only one waiting for them, so Lee couldn't expect the cavalry to come charging through the tunnel.

The lieutenant looked at them a second longer, then said, "*Dos vidanya, komrad*," nodding to the man behind Travnik. An instant later, there was a muffled report as the silenced gun went off, and Travnik slumped forward to the floor, blood pouring from the back of his head. Lee's head whipped up to meet the lieutenant's gaze, wondering if pleading for his life would do him any good. 

The officer met his gaze with no expression. Then he raised his eyes to the man behind Lee. Lee tensed his muscles and wondered if he would hear the noise of the gun before the bullet ended his life.

"Halt!" came a woman's voice. Lee turned his head to see yet another person coming down the stairs. As she reached the bottom step and entered the room, he was amazed and relieved to see Yannah. He briefly closed his eyes. Never in his life had he been so glad to see someone. 

As she came forward, the soldier behind him struck his gun against the side of Lee's head, forcing him to turn away. Lee raised a hand to his face, feeling the fresh cut on his cheek.

"What is going on?" Yannah asked in clipped tones, coming to stand behind Lee and to his left. "What is the meaning of this?" He saw the shadow of her arm on the wall as she pointed to Travnik's body.

"We were only following orders, Fraulein Alberts," the lieutenant replied. "With your information, we apprehended these two men and one other attempting infiltration through this tunnel. Our standing orders are to eliminate anyone trying to cross the Wall."

Lee felt his stomach twist in even worse knots than when he was about to be executed. Had he understood the lieutenant's German correctly? Did he say they were acting on Yannah's orders?

"Then you apparently did not understand the rest of your instructions," she continued coldly. "They were to be brought to headquarters for interrogation. This one in particular," and she gave Lee an energetic kick in the side with her boot, sending him sprawling onto Travnik, "is an American. A spy. He is of much more use to us alive than dead. Even the Russians would have been of some value."

Oh, God. Lee closed his eyes again and tuned out the pain in his side as he tried to comprehend the implications of what he just heard. What had he done? All his warnings to himself about not trusting a double agent, and here she had led him right into enemy hands. His jaw clenched. He had even been entertaining the possibility he was falling for her. What the hell had he been thinking?

He raised himself off Travnik's body and looked up to see her coolly staring back at him. The bare light bulb was behind her head, making it difficult to see her features. But the gun she had drawn and was pointing at him was perfectly visible. "The Scarecrow, I believe?" she asked sardonically.

Lee made his face expressionless, not willing to let her see his inner turmoil. "So it's a habit of yours not to know the names of the men you invite to your bed?"  
  
He had been expecting to feel the lieutenant's boot in his ribs for that comment, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Groaning, he straightened up and met her eyes again. Her gaze flickered over him before she retorted, "Apparently American men think with the same parts of their bodies German men do." She let that comment sink in, then snapped her fingers. "Up!"

The two enlisted men came forward and hauled Lee to his feet. "Let's go," she said in that same cold tone, motioning with her pistol. "We have accommodations waiting for you."

Lee lifted his chin, ignoring the trickle of blood from his cheek making its way under his collar. He might have made some of the stupidest moves of his life in the past few days, but he was still a damned good agent. Whatever Alberts and the East Germans had in mind for him, he had to be ready for it. Any self-recrimination or guilt was going to have to wait until he was back home. He shut off the corner of his mind that was wondering if he would, in fact, make it home, as he was handcuffed and marched up the stairs into the cold, dark night.


	7. Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

Chapter 6: Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

He will not go behind his father's saying,   
And he likes having thought of it so well   
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."  
--Robert Frost, "Mending Wall"

Saturday, December 9, 1989  
2:03 P.M.  
East Berlin  
Humboldt University

Turning another page in Amanda's guidebook, Lee sighed as he began to read about the Brandenburg Gate for the third time. At least it was warmer than it had been the past couple of days, but it was still too cold to be comfortably sitting on a concrete bench for half an hour. Still, he knew he had to give Yannah at least an hour to show before giving up. 

The local Agency office had been checking out her story over the past couple of days, and there did seem to be some truth to it. Erik Jaeger was still stationed in West Berlin, and he verified rumors that some members of the old guard were determined to stop reunification before it got started, and that Yannah might well be in danger. Lee still didn't understand why the danger was so great that she couldn't pass through the checkpoints that were now basically a formality. But whatever else she might have been, she was certainly a good agent, in no small part because of her caution. 

He felt a prickling at the back of his neck as he noticed out of the corner of his eye that someone was approaching from his left side. He didn't have to turn his head to notice the scent of jasmine floating his way, and he took a deep breath to steady his nerves as the person sat on the opposite end of his bench. 'Come on, Stetson, it's just another contact to make. Just say the words,' he told himself. He turned his head as he asked in German, "Pardon me, ma'am, but could you tell me what that building across from us is?"

"It is called the Neue Wache," came the same throaty voice he remembered, speaking in English. Blue eyes turned to meet his, from a familiar face nestled deep inside a fur-lined hood. He was struck by the wave of emotions rolling through him at seeing her again, starting and ending with anger. "The New Guardhouse," Yannah continued, her eyes watchful as they flickered towards the honor guard patrolling the building in question.

"What does it guard?" he asked automatically, hands clenching the guidebook he still held. Despite everything he told Amanda, he wasn't entirely sure he could do this. He was half expecting Yannah to signal to the soldiers across the courtyard. Here in the middle of the Humboldt University campus, nearly empty on a cold Saturday afternoon, there would be few people to see him being dragged away. Amanda was here, but she was on the opposite side of the courtyard, underneath the portico of the main classroom building. He restrained a sigh and tried to focus. How was he supposed to trust Yannah enough to work with her if he couldn't trust her enough to do a simple meet?

"It is a memorial," she replied, meeting his gaze again. There were a few lines at the corners of her eyes that he didn't remember, but she was still beautiful. Probably still able to seduce foreign agents without any effort. "A memorial for the victims of the National Socialists. The victims of fascism and militarism."

One more exchange remained, though he didn't know why it was necessary. He knew this was Yannah Alberts, and he was sure she knew him as well. But the little voice in the back of his head that he had come to think of as his Amanda voice was warning him to cool down, and completing the code words was a good way to stall until he could get his mind back on business. "I was told it was a memorial for the victims of World War I."

She looked him up and down, obviously taking in his tense shoulders and clenched hands. "Times change. Nations must change along with them." Then she added, "That is why we are here, isn't it?"

He tore his gaze away from her to stare across the plaza. "I'm here because I was ordered to be," he muttered. Then, louder, "There certainly is a lot of change going on around here. I wonder if that's true of the people as well as the place."

He felt her gaze still on him. "Who knows," she said softly. "Perhaps soon this will become a memorial to the victims of Communism as well."

"Like Pyotr Travnik and Dmitri Sikorski?" he snapped before he could help himself.

He wanted to keep from looking at her, but when she remained silent, he had to turn his head. He didn't expect the puzzled expression on her face. She gazed at him for a moment longer before replying, "Sometimes men make the wrong choices, Lee. Perhaps they are victims of no one other than themselves."

His eyes narrowed. How dare she cast his past mistake up to him like that? "How can you say that?" He leaned towards her. "You insist I'm the only one you can trust, lure me back to Berlin, and then insult me like that? What kind of game are you playing here?"

She drew back a little, and he still saw confusion in her eyes. "Travnik and Sikorski made the wrong choices, not you. I am sorry you were caught in the middle, but I did the best I could do under the circumstances. They had to be stopped."

"What are you talking about, Yannah? If you had to stop Travnik from defecting, weren't there easier ways to do it than waiting till the last minute, when we were almost out? Couldn't you have left me out of it? Or was I just a convenient bonus to get your colleague back?" Finally, he was getting the chance to ask the questions he had been pushing aside for ten years, and he was amazed at how calm he was. Well, except for his clenched jaw, and his hands still in fists in his lap. Anyone watching them would have no difficulty figuring out he wasn't the confused tourist he was supposed to be. He made himself draw a deep breath and lean back against the bench, not breaking eye contact as he waited for her reply.

"Stop him from defecting?" she asked incredulously. "What do you -- " She searched his eyes. A few seconds passed as Lee met her gaze, not bothering to hide the anger that had risen again. Her eyes slowly widened, and she looked as though a light had just gone on in her head. She made a move as if to reach for him, then collected herself. "You don't know, do you? Why Travnik was defecting through Berlin, why he requested your help?" She shook her head, looking bewildered. "And you still came, thinking that I . . ." 

"Why *Travnik* requested my help?" he asked, confused. "I thought it was you." Something was very strange about this, and he watched Yannah even more closely, trying to determine if she was telling him the truth.

She shook her head, impatiently tucking back the long hair escaping from her hood. "I requested you because he did. I didn't find out why until it was too late, and then all I could do to save you was turn you in. Lee, I thought you knew. Travnik was still with the KGB, working with Sikorski to capture a top American agent and take him back to Moscow. You would have never made it out of East Berlin alive if I had not set the border patrol on you. I do regret the Soviets were killed before I had a chance to interrogate them, but--"

"What?" Lee's mind was spinning, and the questions tumbled out of his mouth. "Hold on. Why me, back then? Why the elaborate setup? Why not just snatch someone off the street in Washington? And why would the East Germans care whether I was packed off to Moscow or not?"

His rapid-fire questioning would have made Amanda proud. Yannah was still staring at him, but he had the feeling it didn't have anything to do with his burst of questions. "You still came," she repeated as she reached out to touch his hand. Her fingers caressed his gloved hand for a moment, then paused at the bump on the third finger. Her eyebrows lifted in a question, and when he gave a single nod, she withdrew her hand, a hint of regret in her eyes.

He held her gaze for a moment longer before looking down to stare blankly at the guidebook still open in his hands. Could what she said have been true? Could the attempted defection have been nothing more than a kidnap plot? Had he really been so valuable to the Russians so long ago? "Can you answer my questions, Yannah?" he asked, a little more gently.

Looking up, he saw a rueful smile on her lips. "I would suggest we find someplace a little warmer and more private to . . . talk, but I believe someone might not be too pleased with that idea." Her gaze flickered downwards to the unseen ring on his finger.

The corner of his mouth turned up, and he glanced at the figure huddling in the doorway of the building across the courtyard before returning his gaze to the woman before him. "Travnik," he quietly insisted. "And the trade. Why?"

"Because Moscow wanted you, Scarecrow, or anyone as good as you that they could get their hands on. Because it's easier to transport someone a few hundred miles through friendly territory than to fly them across an ocean. Once you had been captured, the East Germans wanted our own agent back, and we wouldn't have agreed to hand you over to Moscow and miss the opportunity for a trade. That was why the transfer took place where it did; we wanted to show the Soviets we were not their puppets, but had our own goals and objectives to meet." 

"And the extra information Travnik was supposed to pick up in East Berlin?" He never figured out that part of the puzzle ten years ago, and he certainly hadn't spent much time considering it since. Could Yannah's story really be true? Why had he never heard this before?

"It was information from Sikorski, details about *their* plan. Lee, I swear to you, I did not know until you left my apartment that night who he was and what he was going to do. And then the only thing I could do to guarantee your safety was to have you captured."

"And what did my safety matter to you?" 

"I think you know that." She looked deeply into his eyes. "I think you know how hard it was to stand there and hold you prisoner when hours before we had been making love."

He briefly closed his eyes, letting himself remember for the first time in years. He had really fallen for her in just a few days, fallen hard, and the shock of her betrayal had actually hurt more personally than professionally. He couldn't keep the harshness out of his voice as he answered, "It didn't look that hard at all from where I was standing."

She looked upward, tracking the flight of a sparrow above the deserted campus. "My skills as an actress have never been in doubt," she said finally. "They have kept me alive for many years." Then she looked at him intensely, the wind whipping loose strands of hair around her face. "But that was the only time I ever acted around you."

Silence fell. Lee looked back down at his guidebook, idly flipping through the pages. He must be getting old -- absorbing this much information in so short a time never used to give him any trouble. Maybe assimilating the information with what he already knew, or thought he already knew, was the problem. Suddenly a lot of things would make sense, if he let himself think about them. He'd refused to think about Berlin and Yannah for so many years now, it was hard to dig out the memories from where they were buried.

Abruptly he snapped the book shut. "Monday at five, after sunset. You'll go to 18 Ruppiner Strasse, the red brick building on the left between the last cross-street and the Wall. It's a music shop that will be closed for the night, but the back entrance will be open off the alley. Go inside and wait for me there."

There was a pause. Then, "You do know where that is?" she asked in an odd tone.

Lee reluctantly met her eyes. "Yes, I do." When Jaeger had given him the instructions to pass on to Yannah he'd had to force himself, yet again, not to dwell on the past. "Two doors down, isn't it?" Two doors down from the last place he had attempted to escape under the Wall, from where this woman had betrayed him. Or where she had saved his life.

She gave a slow nod. "History will not repeat itself, Scarecrow. You have my word."

"We'll see, won't we." He was proud of himself for keeping the cynicism out of his voice. If what Yannah said was true, then how different things might have been! If he'd known why she did what she did, had had even the slightest hint . . . 

Lee shook his head. He had never been one for dwelling on what might have been. He gave Yannah a short nod, rose to his feet and headed towards Amanda without a backwards glance.

Friday, December 18, 1981  
7:17 A.M.  
Checkpoint Charlie  
East Berlin side

It was the first time during Lee's visit to East Germany it had been bright enough to see anything at seven in the morning. The reason was the bank of searchlights glaring down from the guardtowers above, illuminating the checkpoint area as well as the sun would. The East Germans were taking no chances about this transfer.

He supposed he should be flattered. After all, they were closing down the major border checkpoint for foreigners between East and West Berlin in order for one particular American to make that crossing. Once he realized they were, in fact, going to let him go, and the trade was happening so quickly, he was expecting a quiet transfer at one of the checkpoints reserved for Berlin residents. Not a public display at the closest point of contact between West and East.

The car he was riding in slowed to a stop just short of the first set of gates, and the driver turned off the ignition. Without speaking, both of the soldiers in the front seat turned to face him, pistols trained on his head and chest, as the third man bent down to remove the cuffs from around his ankles. Lee had barely spoken to any East Germans, as a matter of fact, since arriving at the prison two nights ago. They contacted Washington with surprising swiftness, considering the kind of information they could have tried to get out of the Scarecrow. They probably wanted their colleague back as soon as possible. Whatever the reason, Lee wasn't complaining. The sooner he got back to the States, the sooner he could start trying to forget about this whole mission.

Nor had he seen Yannah since leaving the basement on Schoenholzer Strasse, though that was just as well. The anger that boiled up in him every time he thought of her would have made it difficult to see her without trying to wrap his hands around her elegant throat. That wouldn't go over too well with the Stasi, he was sure. Staring straight ahead out the front windshield, he didn't move a muscle as his feet were freed. Then the man on the passenger side climbed out and opened Lee's door. With his hands still bound behind him, he struggled out of the car and straightened up.

It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the bright lights assaulting him, but once he did, he realized he couldn't see a thing beyond the second set of gates. He knew the American guard booth was only a few yards beyond; he'd driven past it five times now. He suddenly wondered what had happened to the guard he had seen jump the barbed wire. Probably still being debriefed in West Berlin somewhere. Squinting, he thought he could make out a few figures approaching from the American side. A gun barrel in his back prodded him forward, and he started walking.

He had been informed in precise terms what was going to happen this morning by the same man who had nearly watched him die Wednesday night. Lee would walk forward, alone, as would Peter Rademacher, his East German counterpart. The Americans would be waiting on their side of the border, the East Germans on theirs. At any sign of trouble, including but not limited to any attempt to keep Rademacher on the Western side, the border guards would not hesitate to shoot Lee and anyone else trespassing on GDR soil. The halfway point would be exactly at the second set of gates, at the edge of what he could now see. If all went well, in about five minutes it would all be over. If all didn't go well, it would be over for him even sooner.

Conscious of what must have been several dozen firearms of various sizes pointed at his back, Lee stepped forward. He wished he could shade his eyes, but his captors had insisted his hands stay restrained. The searchlights made it surprisingly warm for a December morning, and he felt a drop of sweat running down past his temple. Fighting the urge to try and rub his shoulder against his cheek to catch the trickle, he continued forward.

It seemed like an eternity, but it was probably only about twenty seconds before he was close enough to make out Rademacher's features. The East German was watching Lee, his hands unrestrained but near to his sides. No doubt he had been warned by the Americans not to interfere, if perhaps not in such threatening terms. After a few more steps, Lee could clearly see the slight smile on the other man's face. Disgusted with himself for being the one responsible for this exchange, he looked straight ahead, at the American soldiers now a couple of dozen yards away. He passed through the narrow gate, Rademacher walking through another opening a few meters to his right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw more East German soldiers watching him from inside the guardhouse to his left.

Once the agents had passed each other, both quickened their steps. Lee was reaching the edge of the searchlights' glare, and he could more clearly make out the ten or so Army soldiers lined up across the road, rifles pointed past him and at Rademacher's retreating back. A few seconds later, he had passed between their ranks and was standing still, one sergeant coming forward with a penknife to sever the ropes around his wrists. He shook his hands free and gave the man a word of thanks.

"Stetson." Stan Andrews strode forward, one hand extended to place on his shoulder. "You all right, son?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Lee shrugged off the station chief's hand and turned his gaze away. He was more than ready to get out of there. Behind him, he could hear the clatter of rifles as the soldiers stood down, and farther back, the roar of the Stasi vehicle starting up to carry Rademacher farther into East Berlin.

"All right," came Stan's reply. He hesitated, then went on, "We've got a medic here in case you need someone to take a look at you."  
  
"I said I was fine," he snapped back. He could use a shower and a shave, and the cut on his cheek probably didn't look too good, but that was all. He suddenly felt aware of all of the eyes on him. Did they all know this was his fault? That Yannah's sardonic assessment of which part of his body had been doing the thinking the past week was correct? He kept his eyes on the ground, fighting the urge to sweep a scorching gaze around at all of the onlookers.

"All right," Andrews repeated, the Southern drawl retreating as he took on a more businesslike tone. "We've got a car here to take you back to your hotel to get cleaned up, but then I'm afraid we'll need to do a bit of debriefing after that."

"When did you find Sikorski?" He had to know that before anything else.

"About midnight Thursday. You were nearly two hours late, and we had to send out a few agents even though Sikorski had insisted he be the only one onsite. We found him just outside the West German entrance, shot through the head. Guess that's another exit route we have to cross off the maps. We're lucky they weren't lying in wait for us as well."

Lee slowly raised his head. To his surprise, no one else except Stan was looking at him. Maybe they didn't want to waste their time staring at such a poor excuse for an agent. And here he had come to West Berlin because he was supposedly one of the best. "I'll take full responsibility, Stan. I know I've cost you more than one Russian defector here." 

Andrews shook his head. "Lee, we work as a team here. Now, I don't know exactly what happened Wednesday night, but I think you're being harder on yourself than I or anyone else at the Agency would be."

"Just wait till Dirk Fredericks gets a hold of me," Lee muttered.

He looked over in time to see Andrews quirk a corner of his mouth. "That's as it may be, son. True, there's gonna be a lot of fallout from this one, but it's not all on your head. Why was Jaeger so wrong about trusting Alberts? He was stalking around with a black cloud over his head all day, muttering about her and why he should have known better. And why weren't any of the warning signals in place? It's going to take a while to sort this one out."

Lee shrugged one shoulder. The station chief could talk all he wanted, but he knew where the blame really lay. He'd been so desperate to get over Eva that he'd fallen all over Yannah without thinking. A double agent could always turn again. Now two men were dead and an important source of information was lost to the other side. Once he told the whole story, he'd be lucky to get out of this one with his clearance and status intact. "Can we get going?" 

"Sure." Andrews clapped him on the back and gestured towards the car. "Let's go."

Stan being so understanding actually made things worse. Lee wanted to be yelled at, wanted someone to scream at him besides the voice in his head. He wanted to shout that it was all his fault: if he'd been doing his job, Yannah Alberts wouldn't have played him for such a fool. Instead, he quietly followed the older man to the black sedan and climbed in the front seat. 

They pulled away from Checkpoint Charlie and turned onto the first cross street, heading towards the center of West Berlin. Looking out the window, Lee caught glimpses of the Wall between buildings. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat. When this was over, and he was out of West Berlin, he was never coming back here. Never.


	8. He Moves in Darkness

Chapter 7: He Moves in Darkness

I see him there   
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top   
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.   
He moves in darkness as it seems to me;   
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.   
--Robert Frost, "Mending Wall"

Monday, December 11, 1989  
5:05 P.M.  
East Berlin

The snow had been falling for about an hour, and a few cold flakes kissed Lee's cheek above the edge of his coat. Hunching his shoulders a little more deeply, he tried to keep his ears tucked below the turned-up collar of his coat and away from the wind's bite. He dug his hands into his pockets and strode onward with his head down, towards the building on Ruppiner Strasse. 

Amanda would be waiting for them with Erik Jaeger on the other side of the tunnel, chafing at her orders not to enter the tunnel and cross into East German territory. Hard to see how it made a difference, this late in the game, but national sovereignty was still national sovereignty, and the East Germans did not want anyone entering or leaving the country without official permission. From the information Yannah had already passed on, some kind of conspiracy was definitely afoot, but there was no way of knowing how high up in the ranks it went. 

Lee shook his head. When political power shifted at the national level, there were always impacts on individual people. But in this case, those impacts could be extreme. If the two Germanys unified, even the highest-ranking East German officers would likely be demoted, or at least would no longer reap extra benefits from being favored members of the Party. And because of a few people like that, he was here freezing his ass off instead of shopping for Christmas presents back in Arlington. He let out a quick puff of breath as he realized his thoughts were with his stepsons and wife, not on the mission at hand. 'Watch it, Stetson,' he warned himself. The distraction might have been different from last time, but the danger was the same.

He rounded a corner onto Schoenholzer Strasse, glancing ahead to a brown brick building near the end of the block. Two figures huddled in the doorway of Number 7, lit by the streetlights overhead, and for a moment his heart stopped. It was like seeing ghosts of himself and Travnik, entering on that fateful night. 

He forced himself to shut down that train of thought as he approached his final turn. As he got closer, he tensed. The figures still had not entered the building where he and Travnik had stood, and he began to wonder if something was wrong. In a brief flare, a cigarette lighter came to life, and the two figures began moving down the steps, one tucking a red-and-white package into his coat. Lee couldn't help but wonder if the free market had already arrived, or if the Marlboros had been obtained through other means. 

He reached the corner and turned to his left, waiting for the traffic light to change. The building just past the opposite corner was his target, a large red brick structure four stories high, stretching the few hundred yards from the street corner to the blankness of the Wall. He remembered being struck by that on his previous visit, the strangeness of a city street abruptly blocked off by concrete and barbed wire, or at night, the streetscape abruptly ending. This side of the Wall was bare, but he knew across the no-man's land and past the guard towers, the concrete on the Western side would be covered in colorful graffiti. Perhaps even a few memorials, considering the importance of this neighborhood in the many attempts to cross the Wall. Though there was probably not a memorial to Dmitri Sikorski and Pyotr Travnik, at least not with their names visible. And if what Yannah said was true, they deserved no monument at all.

Someone bumped into Lee's shoulder as they hurried past, and he looked up to see the light had changed. Flexing his fingers inside his pockets to keep them warm, he strode across the street and past the building on the corner, towards the music shop adjacent to it. Glancing around one last time, he slipped into the alley and made his way towards the back of the building. He was immensely relieved when the door at the back opened at his touch. Stepping inside, he saw a short flight of stairs leading up to his right towards the shop, and a longer stairway descending into darkness in front of him. A single bare bulb over his head cast stark light on the walls. 

He shut the door behind him and stamped his feet to shake off the snow, noticing a set of wet footprints leading down the stairs before him. The back of his neck prickled when he realized they were larger footprints than Yannah's would be. Unbuttoning his coat, he reached back to draw his weapon. After taking a deep breath, he made his way down the wooden staircase as quietly as he could, wincing when a board creaked. 

As he came to the bottom of the stairs, the light from the landing above was just enough to reveal a hallway extending to the left. He reached the final step and paused a moment to listen. There was no sound except the muted honk of a horn from the street. His shoes scraped on bare concrete as he started into the darkness.

The corridor stretched the length of the building, and he began to wonder if it extended under the Wall, too. A faint sliver of light finally caught his eye, ahead on the left. He made his way forward more cautiously, straining his ears, but in vain. As he reached the end of the hall, there was just enough light coming from under the door on the left for him to see another door immediately opposite. No sound came from either door. He looked down, but there wasn't enough light to see which direction the footprints went. After bending down to feel the floor for wet footprints, he realized the dank basement air meant the entire floor was damp. No help there. Taking a deep breath and readying his pistol, he turned the knob on the door to the right and stepped inside.

A bare bulb overhead lit what was obviously some kind of storage area, though it was storing very little at the moment. Rows of dusty shelves lined the wall, with only a few cardboard boxes stacked up near the door. Pausing to make sure he had his mental compass straight, Lee moved towards the northern wall. He saw nothing resembling a tunnel entrance, though perhaps it was behind some of the shelves. He started peering underneath the ones at eye level, looking for some kind of indication of where they were supposed to go. Jaeger hadn't said anything about a trick entrance, so the tunnel had to be easy to find. Assuming this was the right room. He straightened up to leave the room and check out the one across the hall.

He was badly startled to see a man in uniform standing just outside in the darkened hallway, pointing a revolver at him. "Your hands in the air, please," came the quiet command.

Lee froze. His arms were down at his sides, but if he moved quickly enough, he thought he could dive to the side and fire. He watched the uniformed man more closely, trying to gauge what kind of response he could expect. Then a second armed man appeared behind the first, and Lee silently cursed. Tossing his pistol into a corner of the room, he sullenly raised his hands to shoulder level.

The first man stepped forward into the room, and Lee's eyes narrowed as he recognized him. He had been in a similar face-off with this man before, in a very different place. The man was watching Lee's face closely, and seemed pleased to see recognition dawning. "Yes, Scarecrow, you and I have met before. 1980, wasn't it, in Angola. I fear you will not be the one to triumph this time."

Karin was the man's name, Lee remembered. Sergei Karin, then as much a foot soldier of the Cold War as Lee had been. They had come face to face in the middle of a guerilla war, one of the dozens of battles the US and the USSR had fought through proxies. In this case it was the Soviets supporting a corrupt regime and the US supporting various rebel factions in Angola and adjacent countries. He'd wounded Karin but had been forced to escape without his prisoner. 

But why would the Soviets be interested in stopping an East German agent from crossing over to West Berlin? They had enough problems keeping their own population in line, now that the physical manifestation of the Iron Curtain was down and the taste of freedom was in the air. Then the second, shorter, man entered the room. Lee saw that he, too, was wearing an East German uniform. Unlike Karin, however, he was blond-haired and blue-eyed, and his identification tag read, "Meyer." If he wasn't Russian, then what was going on?

Karin must have seen the confusion on Lee's face, for he smiled. "Your Miss Alberts did a fine job of leading us to you," he started. "There are still many in the East German ranks who see the wisdom of cooperating with Mother Russia and not giving into the capitalists."

"No," Lee said aloud, his mind churning. "I don't believe you." Didn't he? Or did he just not want to believe he'd been betrayed again?

Karin laughed and stepped forward, the second man coming around to stand behind Lee. "Believe what you want, my friend. Yannah Alberts told us where you would be and when. And as you can see, she was right."

Lee clenched his jaw. How else would they have known who he was and where to find him? The anger started to surge up inside of him. What the hell had he been thinking?

And then he quelled his rage with a single thought. Why would Yannah be trying to capture him here, knowing Amanda and Erik were a shout away? Why hadn't she just done something the other day when they met at the university? And there were only two men here, one of them not a German. He forced himself to calm down and think. Something else was going on.

Karin continued, "You will be quite a prize to bring back to Moscow, you know. Both of you." His pause seemed purely for dramatic effect, and Mark's words from years ago about Russians having to make a statement echoed in Lee's head. It figured that Karin would betray Yannah, in his turn. If the Russians knew she had been helping West German and even American agents, she was in for a rough time of it. They'd be trying to get as much information out of her as out of him.

But Karin was speaking again. "We know the name is inaccurate now, but as you are still the Scarecrow, she is still Mrs. King."

Lee's stomach dropped. "What do you mean? Amanda's not here. She's not part of this." 

"She will be soon." Gesturing towards the open doorway with his weapon, Karin continued, "Across the hall, if you please. She and our companion will be joining us there."

Lee took a step forward. "I don't understand," he replied, fighting to keep his voice firm. "She doesn't know anything that could be of use to you."

"Oh, we both know that's not true," the Russian responded. "Besides, it doesn't matter what she knows or doesn't know. It only matters what *you* know." He paused. "And what you are willing to tell us."

A chill ran down Lee's back, along with the realization that he was going to have to get away from these men or go down fighting. No way was he going to have Amanda used as a means of getting him to tell Agency secrets. He knew he could withstand a lot on his own, and Amanda had received considerable training in resisting interrogation. But he also knew he could be broken if it meant saving her from harm. 

At a prod in his back from the man behind him, he moved forward, across the dark hallway and into the other room. The light was switched on, and he blinked at the brightness. This room, too, was nearly bare, but was distinguished from the first one by a large, dusty painting of a pastoral scene hanging on the wall. His hands still held away from his sides, he stopped in the center of the room and turned around.

Karin nodded towards the painting. "If you would remove it from the wall, please?"

He moved as slowly as he could, his mind racing. Karin wanted the tunnel entrance open. But Yannah couldn't have told him Amanda was waiting so close by, because he hadn't told her about that part, and so she couldn't have known. Was Karin going to cross over to West Germany and drag her back? If that was the plan, he wouldn't give it very good odds. He knew Jaeger was waiting with Amanda, and that meant --

Oh, hell. He stopped in his tracks. It meant Yannah wasn't the only traitor around here. 

"It's Jaeger, isn't it?" He turned away from the painting to look at Karin. "Your 'companion'."

"Very good, Mr. Stetson. Yes, another man who has seen the wisdom of joining the fight against the corrupt West. He has been a great help to us over the years."

Over the years? "How long?" Jaeger couldn't possibly have been with the East Germans since before '81, if he knew Yannah was a double agent. What had happened since?

"Long enough," came the reply. Karin motioned with his gun towards the artwork, and Lee reluctantly turned back to it. Putting one hand on each side of the frame, he lifted upwards and pulled it off the wall. Staggering a little under the weight, he took a few steps to the side and dropped it to the ground, leaning it against the wall.

He had uncovered a hole about one meter on a side, opening out at waist level. He peered into it, trying to listen for any sounds of someone approaching, but someone grabbed his upper arm and jerked him back. It was Meyer, who gave him a shove back towards the middle of the room.

"Now what?" Lee asked, standing up straight and facing the two men once he'd caught his balance.

"Now we wait."

Lee wasn't about to wait in silence. "So I take it you're behind the threats against Kohl and Modrow."

"I am flattered you think so highly of me," the Russian replied. "I am not well-placed enough to give those kind of orders."

"Why, Karin? The Wall is down. It's the end of the Iron Curtain, the end of the Soviet Bloc. The writing is on the wall, no matter how you try to fight it."

"You don't understand." The Russian took a few steps forward until he stood in front of Lee. "You are familiar with the saying, 'Nature abhors a vacuum'?" When Lee nodded, he continued, "We do what we must to maintain the balance of power. I do not think you fully understand the consequences of the 'end of the Iron Curtain,' as you put it. We cannot allow reunification to happen, and if it means innocent lives are lost, we are prepared to accept that."

Lee stared at him. "You're threatening violence against civilians because you can't bear the though of losing any of your power. That's not quite so noble as you make it out to be."

"That's not what I said -- " Karin stopped abruptly at a sound behind him in the hallway. He jerked his head at Meyer. "Find out what that was." The blond man nodded, and stepped out of the room, holding his gun at the ready.

That evened the odds a bit. Apparently Karin thought so, too, for he leveled his revolver at him. "No more talking," he said.

Lee stayed watchful, aware there wasn't much he could do at the moment. He glanced at the tunnel entrance off to his right, but there was no sound from within. Looking at Karin, he thought the man was starting to look nervous. He must have been expecting Jaeger and Amanda by now. Good. Any sign something had gone wrong in the Easterners' plan was good news.

"Meyer's taking an awful long time getting back, isn't he?" he asked almost conversationally. "Things aren't going the way you planned, Sergei."

Karin opened his mouth to reply, and then there was a noise from the tunnel. He glanced to his left, and then he took a few steps towards Lee. Lee's eyes flicked back and forth between the Russian and the dark opening of the tunnel, from which he could definitely hear someone approach. Then Karin suddenly grabbed Lee's arm and pulled him in front of his body, pressing the gun to his side of his head.

It took a second for Lee to orient himself. When he understood what was going on, his heart sank at the new situation he faced. Crouching inside the entrance to the tunnel was Amanda, the pistol in her outstretched hands trained on Karin. Which meant it was pointed at him.

"Mrs. King," Karin called as if greeting an old friend. "Or should I say Mrs. Stetson? We've been waiting for you to join us," and he pulled Lee a little closer. "We were just waiting for you to arrive under slightly different circumstances."

"Oh, well, we found out about Jaeger," she replied, looking at Lee questioningly. He gave her a slight nod to indicate he had figured it out, too. "And we took care of him. It's all over," she continued in a firm voice as she stepped out onto the concrete floor. "The West Germans are right behind me, and the East Germans are right behind you. I don't think they'll take too kindly to you overstepping your borders like this."

Oh, crap. Lee knew that tone of voice. It was the same cheerfully overconfident one Amanda had used nearly six years ago, the first time she had faced down Soviet agents holding him at gunpoint, successfully convincing them she was the Scarecrow and that the building was surrounded. He'd been astonished Zinoviev had fallen for it then, and he'd be surprised if Karin fell for it now.

Unfortunately, he was not surprised. The revolver pressed into his head more firmly as Karin replied, "I call your bluff, Mrs. King. However you managed to overcome Jaeger, he would have made sure in advance that no aid would be forthcoming from your side of the Wall. My men will be coming shortly, and I would suggest you drop your weapon." 

"You never did bluff very well, Sergei," Lee taunted through his clenched teeth. "If you had extra men in the hallway, they'd already be in here. It's just us, two against one."

"Yes, but I would appear to have the advantage," Karin responded, thumbing the safety off his gun. The click seemed to reverberate through Lee's skull, and he saw Amanda's eyes go wide. He stood still, trying to ignore the sweat he felt trickling down his temple. He remembered standing at the top of a grassy hill, holding a gun on Amanda, and how the trust in her eyes had shone through her fear and enabled him to do what he had to do. He tried to convey that same trust to her now. 'You know what you're doing,' he silently urged her. 'Don't give in.'

He was pleased to hear her reply firmly, gun unwavering. "You won't kill him. Moscow wants him too badly." Lee had no idea how she had managed to figure that one out, or what she had managed to do with Erik Jaeger. He was looking forward to finding out. If he made it out of this intact.

"That may be true, Mrs. King. You, however, would merely be the icing on the cake." He could feel Karin's right arm tense, and suddenly he knew what the Russian had planned. Lee had been right earlier: the Russians didn't want Amanda for her information, but as a tool to break him. She was the expendable one. And Karin had a perfect shield in place. Lee desperately reached to intercept Karin's arm as it began to move.

He was a second too late.

Karin's right arm flashed out, pulling the gun away from Lee's head to point it at Amanda, as his finger tightened on the trigger. "No!" Lee shouted, as the report of the revolver echoed in the basement room.

He thrust an elbow back into Karin's midriff, ready to follow it up with a quick punch to the jaw. When he met with little resistance, he was startled enough to turn his head, just in time to watch the Russian fall to the floor. The left side of his uniform was slowly soaking through, red blood looking black on the olive green shirt. Confused, he whirled toward Amanda to find her on her back, raising herself onto an elbow. "I'm all right," she quickly reassured him. "I just thought it might be a good idea to duck."

Lee let out a long breath. "How'd you manage to do that?" he asked, pointing back towards the man on the ground. He had realized Karin's change in plan as soon as he understood the Russian was making him into a more effective shield. Amanda might be a good shot, and had even had to hit living targets before, but he didn't think she would be so bold as to try and put a bullet into a man standing behind him. Maybe it was the adrenaline.

"I didn't." Amanda gestured off to Lee's left as she scrambled to her feet. "She did."

Lee whipped around to see Yannah Alberts standing in the doorway, pistol still pointed at Karin's body. Not taking his eyes off her, he reached down to remove the weapon from the Russian's hand. "Yannah," he acknowledged, fingers flexing around the revolver's grip as he rose.

She turned to face him, but didn't lower her weapon. "Lee," she replied, eyes flicking down to his gun.

"You're late."

Her long hair swirled as she jerked her head back towards the dark hallway behind her. "I had business to attend to."

Lee waited a moment longer, tensing his muscles to spring if necessary. "Karin said you told him I was going to be here."

She took a deep breath, and he could see her double-handed grip on the gun tighten. "And you believed him."

He was aware of Amanda standing right behind him, of how far he would have to reach to push her down to the ground. He raised his left hand an infinitesimal amount as he asked, "Should I?"

Yannah's blue eyes darkened. "You still do not trust me."

"It'd be a lot easier to do if you put down that gun."

She looked at his weapon again before meeting his eyes. "Not when I may need to defend myself."

"You won't need to if you answer my question truthfully." He shifted his hand upward another inch.

The corner of her mouth turned up. "I doubt that's accurate. You see, I did tell Karin you were going to be here."

"You -- " Lee brought his weapon up the rest of the way, training it on Yannah's head. "Put it down. Now."

She shook her head. "Not until you hear me out."

"I'm warning you -- " Lee started, but was cut off by Amanda's hand on his shoulder. "Let her talk," she said quietly.

"Thank you." Yannah nodded at her. "I told him you were going to be here, yes. With the information I had been able to gather, I knew he was part of the conspiracy that has trapped me here. My friend, the one who warned me I was not safe, told me today that your Herr Jaeger was part of it as well. What I did not know was whether or not I would be believed without proof." She nodded down at her coat pocket. "May I?"

Lee nodded, keeping his aim steady. She slowly reached into her front coat pocket and withdrew a small tape recorder. Pressing a button, she held it out for them to hear. "If it means innocent lives are lost, it is a cost we are prepared to accept," came Sergei Karin's voice. She pressed another button, and the click echoed in the silent room.

Amanda's voice broke the stillness, asking the question before he could. "Why did you use Lee to trap Karin? Why not do it yourself?"

"Because I knew Lee did not trust me. I knew even if I brought you a taped confession, you might think I had made it up. Without knowing what Jaeger had told you about me, I had to make you hear the truth for yourself. This," she hefted the tape recorder and looked from Amanda back to Lee, "is my insurance once I am in the West. I do not know what Jaeger might have been saying about me, and to what extent it has been believed."

"He told me plenty," Amanda said, stepping out from behind Lee. "He said he'd been selling information to the East Germans for over a decade."

"How is that possible?" Lee snapped. 

"He said it was really just for the money. He didn't care about loyalties, his own or anyone else's," and she gestured at Yannah. "But then the Russians made him see that with the fall of the Wall, his market for information would be drying up, and they convinced him to help with their plans."

"So the information I was feeding him was not new. Everything I found out about the conspiracy, he was able to suppress. Any piece of information he gave to me was just what they wanted me to know." She took a deep breath, suddenly looking older. "I do not know how long he has been working both sides, how much damage he has done. I would hate to think all of my work has been for nothing."

Amanda nodded, and he felt her hand on his upper arm. "They were going to bring you to Moscow, too, Yannah. Jaeger said it was time to find out just how much you knew about the Agency, that your usefulness to him had ended. That's how I know you're telling the truth."

At that, Lee looked at his wife. He saw the truth of what she was saying in the depths of her brown eyes. "We need to get through the tunnel, Lee. The three of us. There might be more coming behind Karin, I don't know."

He let his arms drop as he accepted her words. He looked over at Yannah, and then bowed his head. "I'm sorry." Sorry he hadn't trusted her, sorry her "usefulness" to a West German traitor meant her life's work was suddenly thrown into doubt. 

He heard her footsteps echo off the cement floor as she came forward. "Don't be," she said softly. "If I was in your place, I would not trust someone like me, either."

Suddenly he was tired. Tired of the emotions of the past hour, of the past week. Of the past eight years. He raised his head to look Yannah in the eye. She looked tired, too, with circles under her eyes he didn't remember seeing the other day. He was afraid she would look even more downcast once the full impact of Jaeger's treachery came to light. "Amanda's right, we should go."

She nodded, opening her mouth as if to say something, and then falling silent. Turning to Amanda, she asked, "You took care of Jaeger, I assume?"

The corner of Amanda's mouth quirked up. "You could say that." At the inquiring lift of Yannah's eyebrow, she went on, "You'd think someone who's supposed to be a top agent would know not to turn his attention away from an American he's guarding when she's standing right next to a piece of wood the same size and shape as a baseball bat." She made a swinging motion with her arms.

Lee felt a grin creep across his face, and he saw Yannah smile as well. "Then it is safe to cross." She stepped toward the tunnel.

He surprised himself by laying a hand on her arm. "Why don't you let me go first?"

She looked amused. "American chivalry?"

"Not exactly." He exchanged a swift glance with Amanda. "I'd feel better with you watching our backs."

Yannah smiled, understanding the trust he was giving her. "Very well." 

He turned to Amanda to see her eyebrows raised and a look on her face he knew all too well. It meant he was in trouble for something he hadn't figured out yet. He cast his mind back over the last few minutes, and then he understood. Looking into his partner's eyes, he gestured towards the tunnel. "You've been through here before, Amanda, so you should be in the lead."

"A wise man," he heard Yannah murmur, but his eyes were focused on Amanda, who was trying to suppress a smile. "Damn straight," was all she said as she hefted the gun in her hand and climbed into the tunnel.


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue

'Something there is that doesn't love a wall,  
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,  
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather  
He said it for himself.

--Robert Frost, "Mending Wall"

Wednesday, December 13, 1989  
West Berlin  
Tiergarten, outside the Brandenburg Gate  
3:38 P.M.

The sun was setting behind him through the trees of the Tiergarten, gilding the quadriga and horsemen on top of the Brandenburg Gate. With Berlin's most famous landmark before him, Lee paused to enjoy the view. The Wall still stood between him and the Gate, though the pickaxes and hammers of thousands of Berliners had reduced its bulk somewhat over the past month. There were layers of bright graffiti covering it from top to bottom, some messages celebrating the joy of the past month, others years-old condemnations of the Wall and pleas for peace and freedom for East Germany.

The Berliner Morgenpost that morning had announced the Gate would be open within a couple of weeks, the remnants of the Wall removed and the boulevard that ran though the heart of divided Berlin open to traffic once again. Lee was sorry they were going to miss it. After all he and his fellow agents had done to bring it about, it would be nice to actually see the Wall falling. Who knew how much of it would still be standing by the time he managed to make it back here. It might be best to see as much of it as possible now. Then his thoughts turned to the woman he saw approaching from the Tiergarten, and he smiled. No, better that they were heading home.

Amanda was rubbing her gloved hands together, and he came forward to wrap his arms around her. "Cold?" he asked.

"A little, now that the sun's going down." She took advantage of the excuse to move closer to him. "I still can't get used to how early it gets dark here."

"It is a lot different," he agreed. "How was Round Two of debriefing?"

"Oh, the usual. I talked for about an hour, they asked some questions, I talked for another hour." She reached up to rub the front of her neck. "My throat's a little sore."

"There's a vendor selling hot cider over there." He nodded towards his left. "That might help while we're waiting."

"Thanks, I think it would." They started off towards the cart, hand in hand. "How was your debriefing?"

"Like you said, the usual. They raised a few questions I couldn't answer, mostly about Jaeger. I figure what you told them should fill in the blanks."

"I'm still surprised they believed us so easily the other night. I mean, he's been working with the Agency for over a decade, and all of a sudden we're saying he's a traitor."

"Well, that's the interesting part." They joined the short line in front of the vendor's cart. "It turns out Anders had his suspicions all along, which is the real reason he got personally involved with this case."

Amanda gave a snort. "It would have been nice of them to tell us."

"Yeah, I think so, too." He suppressed a smile as he remembered how vehemently he'd expressed that opinion to the station chief.

"So not only was Yannah using us to get Karin, but Anders was using us to get Jaeger." She shook her head. "Talk about a tutti-frutti business."

They shared a smile at her phrasing, but then they were at the front of the line before they could do more than exchange a quick kiss. They ordered their mulled cider, and walked away with two steaming, fragrant cups. "Mm. This does hit the spot," Amanda said.

"Yeah, it does." He checked his watch for the third time. It wasn't like a German to be running so late.

Apparently she had noticed his impatience. "She'll be here. She probably just got held up in her own debriefing."

"Her interrogation is more like it." Lee shook his head. "And she's got a few more days to go, even if it's in comfortable quarters compared to where Jaeger is."

"I can't believe he told them she was a triple agent." She shook her head in disgust. "And just so no one would wonder what happened when she disappeared from here and showed up in Moscow."

"Well, from what Jaeger's already spilled, that was Karin's idea, not his. And I don't think they believed him at that point, anyway."

"Still, it's going to be a while before they sort out all the damage Jaeger has done over the years." Amanda took another sip of her cider. "It's not fair."

"No, it's not," he agreed. "But that's the kind of business we're in."

She nodded resignedly and looked away. "Oh, there she is." She gestured behind him. As he turned, he saw Yannah slowly walking towards them along the Wall, trailing one hand against the broken concrete. He turned back to Amanda to find her draining her cup. "Come on," she said, tossing the styrofoam into a nearby garbage can.

He followed suit, taking her hand by habit as they walked across the sidewalk and street to where the other woman stood. She looked up as they drew near, her face framed by her hood. "Lee, Amanda," she greeted them. "Thank you for coming."

"We wanted to make sure you were all right," Amanda started. "You've been through a lot the past couple of days."

"More like the past decade," she replied with a trace of a smile. "But thank you for your concern."

"Are they treating you okay?" Amanda asked.

Yannah looked at her gloved hand, still resting on the concrete as if to give her something to hold on to. "They let me come here, didn't they?" She looked up and gave them a reassuring smile. "Yes, considering the circumstances, they have been fine. I was surprised they accepted my story so readily until I found out they were already on to Jaeger."

"So was your tape recording of Karin's plan necessary?" Lee tried to sound curious rather than accusatory. He'd accepted she had been using him to catch Karin because once again, she'd had to improvise on the spot. But it still bothered him, if only a little.

"Not for the purposes of catching Jaeger. For the purposes of catching Karin and helping to ferret out the others who were involved, yes, I think it will be. The Stasi found Herr Meyer in the basement on Ruppiner Strasse, and he is cooperating with them and the West Germans."

"So the meeting next week is safe."

"Yes, and many other meetings after that." Yannah shook her head. "They are, as you would say, crawling out of the woodwork. Karin's death appears to have scared the other Soviets who were involved in the conspiracy back to Moscow. They have left holes in their networks; if those holes can be traced, their East German contacts can be found and any future violence can be stopped as well."

"And that's where you come in," Amanda said.

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "My knowledge of both sides is turning out to be useful, yes? Especially since much of my work over the past decade may turn out to be meaningless."

"That's one of the things they'll be questioning Jaeger most closely about," Lee supplied. "It might mean a few changes in the way the Agency handles its contacts, depending on what he has to say."

She nodded. Brushing her fingertips against the graffiti-covered, jagged concrete, she withdrew her hand. "I would do it again, you know," she said. "Just to be standing here, on this side, and to see this." She gestured at the entry point several meters down the Wall where East and West Germans were freely passing through, only showing a passport or identity card.

"Would you really?" Lee asked quietly. "You won't know for a while what information got to our side, and what didn't. How can you be sure Jaeger didn't destroy everything?"

"Because I kept track over the years, of the people I helped past the Wall. They can't be destroyed. Because I know Modrow and Kohl will meet in safety next week to start the work of rebuilding my city and my country. For that, I would do even more." She placed a hand on his upper arm. "Do you remember what I said about this day? That East and West would come together, and we would forgive each other our mistrust? That is coming to pass, Lee." Her eyes flickered to Amanda's, and she lowered her arm. "I have made a difference, even if Jaeger did his best to muffle it. For that difference, I would do it again."

He slowly nodded. "Sounds like you have your work cut out for you."

She shrugged and pushed back her hood, smoothing her hair. "It is what I was meant to do with my life."

"I think I've heard you say that before, too." He remembered that first dinner in her apartment, and for the first time it was only bittersweet, not painful. While he now had someone who knew and understood him as a whole person, not just an agent, Yannah had been the first person to really understand what drove him. It was good to finally be able to acknowledge that, instead of pushing it aside.

Yannah glanced at her watch. "I am sorry, but Herr Anders expects me back at the Agency offices at 4:00. Perhaps you would walk with me there?"

"Sure, we have a few more loose ends to wrap up ourselves," Amanda replied. "If that's okay with you, Lee?"

"Ah, sure." He paused and looked at her. "How's your throat?"

"Still a little sore, but it's probably just tired."

"Would another cup of cider help?"

"Couldn't hurt!"

"Why don't you go on ahead, and I'll catch up," he said, placing a hand on each woman's elbow.

Amanda gave him a querying look, then nodded. "Come on, then," she said to Yannah.

Lee stood, the Wall to his back, and watched for a moment as the two women walked down the path into the Tiergarten. Yannah's blond hair flew across her face with a gust of wind, and she reached up to pull her hood back on. Amanda had done the same, and in their two black wool coats, they looked the same except for the slight difference in height.

He started walking, now several meters behind them, angling towards the cider vendor. He hadn't heard either of them say a word, and he was beginning to wonder if he had done the right thing by leaving the two of them alone. Amanda would usually at least make polite conversation, but maybe her throat really was too sore for talking.

Finally, he heard Yannah's faint voice, carried towards him on the wind. "So, how did you and Lee meet? Were you assigned as partners at the Agency?"

Amanda's laugh rang out, and he couldn't hold back a soft chuckle. "Not exactly," he heard her say. The two women rounded a bend in the path, and any further conversation was lost. Turning to stand in line at the cart, he smiled as he realized Billy's suggestion had worked. The ghosts of Berlin had been laid to rest.


End file.
